Part 1
I was standing by the table with the green mole, my hands stained with dough and my heart in pieces, when Ramiro raised a glass of hibiscus water and smiled as if he had just won the lottery.
—Thank you for being here —he said—. Today Mariana and I want to share some news.
My sister, sitting under an arch of white and gold balloons, touched her belly.
She was three months pregnant.
I already knew, but seeing it turned into a celebration, with my aunts clapping and my mother crying with emotion, made me feel as if I were being buried alive in my own home.
—We’re going to start a family —Ramiro said.
The women screamed.
A cousin started recording with her phone.
My mother crossed herself.
—Blessed be God, finally some joy.
The tray slipped from my hands.
The tamales spilled open on the patio floor, right in front of everyone.
Ramiro turned toward me.
Mariana did too.
But neither of them looked ashamed.
On the contrary, they looked annoyed that I had interrupted their perfect moment.
—A family? —I asked, my face burning—. Is that what you call getting my sister pregnant while you’re still married to me?
The patio fell silent.
Even the children stopped running.
My mother rushed over.
—Lucía, don’t make a scene in front of people.
—Me, make a scene? —I laughed, but my voice cracked—. They made the scene in my bed, Mom.
Mariana stood up slowly.
—It wasn’t like that.
—Then how was it? Did he also tell you I was dead?
Ramiro clenched his teeth.
—I was going to explain.
—When? After the baby was born? Or after I signed the loan for your fake business?
My mother widened her eyes.
—What loan?
Everyone turned to Ramiro again.
He tried to approach me, but I raised my hand.
—Don’t touch me.
I had supported that man for six years.
I worked in a bakery in Narvarte from five in the morning, and in the afternoons I cleaned dental clinics.
Ramiro promised his digital delivery company would lift us up.
I paid for his courses, clothes, gas, even a supposed diploma in Monterrey he never finished.
While I was saving to open my own seafood and coffee shop, he spent that money on cribs, private appointments, and flowers for my sister.
—Lucía, I thought you two were already separated —Mariana said, crying.
—And that’s why you accepted a party at our mother’s house?
My mother stepped between us.
—A child is not to blame. What matters now is that Mariana stays calm.
That sentence hurt me more than the betrayal.
Because I understood my mother wasn’t thinking about me.
She was thinking about the baby, about what people would say, about the pretty family photo for Facebook.
—And me, Mom? —I asked—. Am I not to blame, or have I already been erased?
No one answered.
Then Ramiro made the mistake of smiling slightly, like someone who had already won.
As if he knew everyone would pressure me into silence.
—Look, Lucía —he said—. It’s better to fix this privately. Mariana is pregnant, your mother is suffering, and you can go on with your life. Don’t be selfish.
I felt something break, but not in fragile pieces.
It broke like a chain breaking.
—You have until tonight to get your things out of my apartment.
—It’s my home too.
—The lease is in my name.
—You have no right.
—And you had no right to use my money to buy a stroller for my sister.
Mariana went pale.
—What money?
Before I could answer, my phone vibrated.
It was a message from an unknown number.
It said: “If you are Lucía, don’t sign anything. Ramiro already sold your name for 480,000 pesos. Your sister is not the only one pregnant because of his lies.”
I looked at Ramiro.
For the first time that afternoon, he stopped pretending.
And in that moment I understood the betrayal had only just begun.
