It seeped into the room the way dampness creeps into walls—quietly, patiently, until one day it is everywhere and you can no longer remember what the air used to feel like before it changed.

I don’t know how.

But I knew it.

I heard his hurried footsteps at the entrance.

The key turned in the lock.

My body reacted before my mind.

I ran to the bedroom and put the letter inside my blouse.

I took Mariana’s ID and put it in my pants pocket.

I didn’t think.

I just did it.

The front door swung open.

“Lucía!” she shouted from the living room.

I didn’t answer.

My breathing was so heavy it gave me away.

I heard his footsteps approaching.

A.

Of the.

Three.

They stopped just on the other side of the bedroom door.

—Lucía—he said this time in a low voice—. Open up.

I looked around for something to defend myself with.

There was nothing.

Just the cutter on the floor.

I picked it up with a trembling hand.

The door opened slowly.

Alejandro appeared in the frame.

And for the first time in eight years I didn’t see my husband.

I saw a stranger.