« Yes, » I replied. Then I looked at her. « And you? »
She nodded slowly.
—Sixteen weeks.
That’s when everything fell apart for him.
Two pregnancies.
Two lives.
One perfectly divided lie.
Efraín slumped down on the edge of the bed.
—I can explain…
—No—I said. Now you listen.
I turned towards her.
—Did he tell you that his wife had died?
She nodded.
—In an accident. Years ago.
I laughed once, dryly.
—Interesting. He told me you were just a colleague.
Her legs gave way and she sat down.
—But there’s something he didn’t plan for—I continued, taking out my phone and pressing “play”.
Efraín’s voice filled the room:
« When the apartment sells, I already have the down payment. I just need your signature. You won’t suspect a thing. »
The woman looked at him in horror.
—You said the apartment was yours.
—It was —I said—. Until yesterday when I transferred full ownership .
Efraín looked up, panic finally breaking through his facade.
-That?
« I spoke with a lawyer. And with a private investigator. » I looked him in the eye. « You were careful with your lies, but not with your documents. »
I looked at her one last time.
—I planned to sell this place, take the money, and disappear. With whoever signed first.
She instinctively covered her belly.
I grabbed my bag and walked towards the door.
Behind me, he whispered:
—Wait… what’s going to happen now?
I stopped, hand on the handle.
—That —I said— depends on you.
I closed the door gently.
Three months later , I received a message.
Efraín had been arrested for fraud.
The apartment was seized.
His accounts were frozen.
She had her baby.
So did I.
And sometimes —when I fold my robe at night— I smile.
Because the flight wasn’t cancelled by chance.
It was cancelled so that the truth could come home first .
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