I don’t remember how long I was there. Everything felt distant, like my body was shutting down. Mateo’s cries grew quieter, and I couldn’t move.
Then I heard the front door open.
“Mariana?”
It was Lucía—my best friend, a doctor. When I hadn’t replied to her messages, she knew something was wrong.
She rushed in, immediately calling for help and taking control of the situation.
“Stay with me,” she kept saying.
Lights. Sirens. Voices.
Then nothing.
I woke up two days later in the hospital.
“Mateo?” I whispered.
“He’s safe,” Lucía said, holding my hand. “We got there in time.”
I closed my eyes in relief.
Diego hadn’t called once.
But he had posted more videos—smiling, celebrating, acting like nothing had happened.
That’s when I made a decision.
“I’m not going back,” I said.
