The Man Who Couldn’t Sleep
The following morning, Alejandro couldn’t focus. Meetings blurred. Voices sounded distant. He kept thinking about the girl who had covered him with a blanket and left him a flower instead of a theft.
That night, he repeated the test — again pretending to sleep, again placing temptation in her path. And once more, Lucía did the same: tended to him quietly, adjusted his blanket, whispered a wish for his happiness, and slipped away.
On the third night, he couldn’t stand it anymore. When she reached out to tuck the blanket, he opened his eyes.
“Lucía,” he said quietly.
She gasped, stepping back. “Señor Doval! I thought you were—”
“Asleep,” he finished softly. “Yes. I know. I was pretending.”
Her eyes filled with confusion — and shame. “You were testing me?”
Alejandro sat up, guilt washing over him. “I had to know if you were like the others.”
“And what did you find?” she asked, her voice trembling.
“That I was wrong,” he admitted. “You’re the only honest person in this house.”
Lucía bit her lip, uncertain. “People aren’t tests, Señor. Sometimes… they’re just trying to survive.”
Her words cut deeper than any accusation.
