“DOCTOR, SAVE MY HUSBAND!” a woman screamed as they rushed him into the hospital. I ran… and then stopped cold. The face on the stretcher—it was my husband.

She studied me for a long moment…
then nodded.

“Go home,” she said.

I couldn’t.

I sat outside the ICU,
counting the rhythm of other people’s breaths…
so I wouldn’t have to face my own lies.

At three in the morning,
the cardiologist came out.

“Massive heart attack.
Prognosis is guarded.”

Valeria clung to me.

And I held her.

Two women
bound by the same man,
not yet knowing
how to pull apart…
without breaking each other.

Outside, Mexico City kept moving.
Inside…
my life had come to a halt.

Alejandro woke at dawn.

Sedated…
but aware.

I wasn’t in his room.
I had retreated to the family lounge,
staring at a crooked painting on the wall.

When Gabriela told me,
my legs felt like they wouldn’t move.

I walked in as a doctor.
Not as a wife.

Or perhaps… an ex-wife.

I didn’t know yet.

Valeria was at his side.

“Love,” she whispered,
kissing his forehead.

Alejandro opened his eyes
and saw me through the glass.

The monitor spiked.

“Relax,” the nurse told him.

He lifted a weak hand…
as if reaching
for two different worlds at once.