I barely recognized the man staring back.
“We go home,” I said.
The drive back felt longer than it should have.
Every turn.
Every stoplight.
Every second stretched.
By the time we reached the house, the sky had darkened.
The porch light was on.
That small detail made my stomach twist.
Marina always turned it on when I was late.
Out of habit.
Out of care.
Or—
Out of something else?
I parked.
Turned to Emiliano.
“Stay close to me,” I said.
He nodded.
We stepped out together.
The house looked the same.
Everything looked the same.
And yet—
Nothing felt the same.
I opened the door.
Slowly.
Carefully.
The smell hit me first.
Something sweet.
Familiar.
Her cooking.
The kitchen light was on.
Voices.
Daniela.
Héctor.
And—
Marina.
My heart stopped.
I stepped inside.
“Good,” Marina said, turning toward me with a smile. “You’re home.”
I froze.
Emiliano’s hand tightened in mine.
“You… didn’t leave,” I said.
“No,” she replied simply.
My mind stumbled.
“What?”
“The flight,” she said. “I didn’t take it.”
“Why?”
She looked at me.
And for the first time—
Her expression wasn’t perfect.
It cracked.
Just slightly.
“Because,” she said quietly, “it was never about the conference.”
Everything in the room shifted.
Daniela stepped forward.
“Dad—”
“No,” I said, raising a hand.
I looked at Marina.
“Then what was it about?”
She exhaled slowly.
Looked at Héctor.
Then back at me.
And said—
“It was about you.”
The words hit harder than anything Emiliano had told me.
I felt my pulse in my throat.
“In what way?” I asked.
She stepped closer.
Slow.
Careful.
Like approaching something fragile.
“You haven’t been taking your medication,” she said.
I blinked.
“What?”
“For your heart,” she added.
I stared at her.
