For seven years, Alejandro had turned those first months of grief into proof of his heroic sacrifice.
Every argument had eventually reached the same line:
“I was the one who stayed when everyone else left.”
He had stayed.
But he had transformed a spouse’s duty during tragedy into a lifelong debt she was expected to repay with her dignity.
Mariana looked up from the phone, her voice deadpan. “You weaponized our daughter’s death to make yourself look noble to your mistress.”
“It wasn’t like that!” he stammered, panic finally cracking his posture.
“I just read your exact words, Alejandro.”
Alejandro raised his voice, gesturing wildly. “I was there when you couldn’t get out of bed! I took you to doctors! I made sure you ate!”
“Yes,” Mariana said quietly.
The simplicity of her answer completely disarmed him.
“Yes, Alejandro,” she repeated. “You helped me. And I will always acknowledge that. But helping me through my grief did not buy you the right to humiliate me for the rest of my life.”
Teresa wiped away a tear, looking at her son with profound shame. “I defended you, Alejandro. I told Mariana that men make mistakes. I am deeply embarrassed that I ever took your side.”
