Chapter 2: The Lie at Breakfast

By morning, Lucía stood in the kitchen stirring oatmeal as if nothing had happened, but fear leaves a scent in a house that no coffee can cover… Continue Reading ⬇️

I watched her from the doorway. Her dress was faded. Her face was pale. She looked like a woman who had spent the whole night holding a scream inside her chest.

“Who was outside our room last night?” I asked.

The spoon stopped moving. Only for a second, but long enough. Then she said, “I don’t know what you mean.”

It was a terrible lie, and Lucía was not a careless woman. She measured every word before letting it leave her mouth. So when she lied badly, I knew the truth behind it must be worse than I feared.

“You blocked the light on purpose,” I said.

She finally turned. Her eyes flicked toward the ceiling. “Please,” she whispered. “Not here.”

That frightened me more than an answer. Continue Reading ⬇️