Mateo thought she was talking about old grudges, money, reputation, those family traditions that weigh heavily without leaving visible traces.
A month before the accident, Valeria had started silently checking her phone, then ending certain conversations as soon as Mateo entered the kitchen.
He had asked if everything was alright, and she had replied that after the birth, she would tell him something important about Héctor.
That name, Héctor, had hovered between them like a closed door, but Mateo hadn’t forced it, because the pregnancy was already taking its toll on her.
He remembered that detail now with cruel precision, as a crematorium employee approached in a dark suit.
“Mr. Mateo, we must begin the final procedure,” the man said in a rehearsed voice, soft yet unbearably mechanical.
The word “final” pierced Mateo’s chest like a blade, because it wasn’t just meant for Valeria, but for Diego too.
Mateo slowly raised his head, felt his throat tighten, and then uttered the final words.
