Mariana said nothing. She just threw the scissors down at her feet with a “clang!” and, with one hand on her stomach, slowly walked into the house… as if what had happened outside had been nothing more than a prelude.
The door closed.
And Javier understood: the real battle… was just about to begin.
And, for the first time in a long time, Javier was left out of his own life.
There were murmurs in the alley, the hum of the heat, and the dry thud of his own breath. He looked at the hair extensions scattered in the yard as if they were evidence of a crime. He looked at the scissors at his feet. And when he looked up, he found dozens of eyes fixed on him: the neighbors, Doña Rosa, the guard… all with the same expression: there were no more excuses.
« What… what happened here? » he stammered, his voice breaking.
No one responded. No one offered him the favor of an explanation.
The guard, an older man in a blue cap, stepped forward and said without shouting, but with a weight that seemed to crush:
—Mr. Javier… your wife is pregnant. A woman came armed with a clipper and scissors to harm her. If you don’t understand how serious this is… then you don’t understand anything.
Javier swallowed hard. He wanted to rush in, but Doña Rosa stopped him with her outstretched hand, as if the gate were a border.
« Let her breathe, » she said. « You’re not going to come in here today and ‘fix’ anything with pretty words. »
Javier froze. Not out of respect. Out of fear.
Because inside, Mariana wasn’t crying. She was thinking.
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