“My flight was canceled, so I returned home earlier than planned. When I opened the door, a woman in my lab coat smiled and said, ‘You’re the real estate agent, aren’t you?’ I nodded… and went inside. Because the truth was about to be revealed.”

She led me to the bedroom, talking about renovations.
On the dresser, a framed photo: Efraín and her in Tulum , smiling in the sun.

Date: Last summer.
The same summer he told me he was on a work retreat in Monterrey.

The bathroom door opened. Steam came out first.

« Honey, did you see my…? » The voice broke off.

Efraín saw me.

For a second, his face was blank. Then, it was filled with calculation.

« Oh, » he said. « You arrived early. »

She looked at him, confused.

—Honey, do you know her?

I slowly closed my folder and smiled.

—Yes —I said—. We know each other very well.

He opened his mouth to speak.

And I decided not to leave it.

« Before you explain anything, » I said calmly, looking at the woman, « there’s something you should know. »

Efraín took a step towards me.

-Please…

I raised a finger. He stopped.

« I’m not a real estate agent, » I continued. « I’m Efraín’s wife . »

The silence fell like broken glass.

She looked at me, then at him.

-That?

—Legally married —I added—. Eight years. Joint accounts. Shared insurance. Same last name.

Her face lost its color.

—That’s not funny, Efraín.

He swallowed.

—She’s… she’s confused.

I smiled.

—Then let’s clear up the confusion.

I took three things out of my bag and put them on the table.

First: our wedding photo , taken in San Miguel de Allende.
Second: copies of his tax returns, where I was listed as his wife until last year.
Third: an ultrasound .

Her breathing stopped.

« I found out two weeks ago, » I said quietly. « I was going to tell you after the trip. »

The woman put her hand to her mouth.

—Are you… pregnant?