—Andrés—Carolina said softly, and the way she pronounced his name made me nauseous—, shall we meet at the bank at eight?
“At eight o’clock sharp,” he replied.
Then they kissed. Right there. Just inches away from where I stood in the darkness. The sound blurred my vision, not from tears, but from a rage so strong it felt like it could melt me.
Then something broke inside me. Not my heart. That was already broken. My fear.
I’ve been a good girl my whole life. The one who trusted. The one who forgave. The one who always tried to see the best in people. And look where that’s led me.
So in the darkness under that bed, I made the most important decision of my life: I wasn’t going to be the victim in this story.
My hands were shaking as I pulled out my phone; thank goodness I’d put it on silent before going down there. I opened the recorder and pressed the red button. Everything they said became evidence. Fifteen minutes. Every detail. Each admission.
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