I stood motionless, phone in hand, as the hum of the refrigerator filled the silence. Outside, the sunset over Veracruz painted the port orange. Everything seemed unreal.
I found a small camera I’d once used to keep an eye on a neighbor’s cat. I checked the battery and hid it behind the bookcase, pointing it toward the living room. The blue light blinked once before I covered it with the spine of a book.
I grabbed my purse, closed the door, and put the keys in my jacket pocket. My hands were trembling. I didn’t know what I was running from, only that Alejandra was terrified.
That night I crossed the bridge to my sister Rosa ‘s house , my heart pounding as if I sensed a storm coming.
A sleepless night
Rosa didn’t ask any questions. She made chamomile tea and sat with me in silence. Later, lying in the guest room, I watched the shadows of the fan turning on the ceiling.
I picked up my phone several times, tempted to open the camera app. I always stopped myself. I was afraid I wouldn’t see anything… and even more afraid of seeing something.
Dawn arrived pale, with the scent of salt and damp wood. I hadn’t slept. Rosa was still snoring when I opened the app.
The picture showed my living room exactly as I had left it. I sighed, almost embarrassed.
Then the door opened.
The recorded betrayal
Rafael , my son, went in first. Behind him came our cousin Leonel and a man with a toolbox. The stranger went straight to the studio door lock.
“He’ll be gone for a week,” Rafael said. “Plenty of time to put him up for sale.”
Leonel laughed.
—He’ll sign when he gets back. I already have the forms ready.
I couldn’t breathe.
They talked about writing, about the safe, about paying off debts as if they were tidying up furniture. I watched them open drawers that held family memories, without a single hint of guilt.
When they left, the door closed as if it were the end.
Something inside me silently broke.
Alejandra’s truth
That same morning I called Alejandra. We met at a café.
“I saw it too,” she confessed. “I didn’t know if you’d believe me if you didn’t see it yourself.”
I had found copies of my signature on notarized documents. Rafael was in debt, pressured by Leonel. They were planning to sell the apartment “for my own good.”
“It’s not love,” she said. “It’s desperation.”
For the first time since that dawn, I didn’t feel completely alone.
