My husband secretly married his mistress. I secretly sold the €12 million house and he screamed…

The final design was delivered. The stress that had been sitting between her shoulder blades all day loosened—just slightly.

It was 8 p.m.
She’d been at her desk since 8 a.m., surviving on a short office nap and a rushed bite of food. The once-crowded floor was emptying fast; only a few coworkers remained, hunched over their screens, chasing their own deadlines.

Sofía picked up her phone.

No reply from Javier.

That morning she’d texted him—sweet, supportive, the way she always did.

“Be safe on your business trip to Barcelona, darling.

Eat well. I’ll be waiting to hear from you.”

Two gray ticks.
Unread.

Sofía exhaled and forced a calm story into her head: He’s busy. Meetings.

Clients. Barcelona.
It had been three days since he left. The house felt too quiet without him.