My name is Leandro Santilla. I'm ten years old, and for months now I've been consumed by a single purpose: finding a husband for my mom.

Since the day I was born, it's been just the two of us against the rest of the world. Mom always says Dad left long before I came along. I can't stand watching her work day and night anymore, her shoulders hunched under the weight of our lives. I don't want her to be the only one who takes care of me, who teaches me how to play soccer, who cheers me up when things get rough. She needs someone to support her too — someone worthy of filling the place that should never have been left empty.

Today isn't just any day. We've arrived at our new home, in the city where Mom was born — the city she swore she'd never return to. But here, in this neighborhood of cobblestone streets and houses with flowers in the windows, I feel like I can find the extraordinary man she deserves. He won't be just anyone. He'll need to be at least six feet tall, have a stable job so he's not living paycheck to paycheck, be noble in character, and above all else, love my mommy with a passion unrivaled in this world.

"What are you doing over there, sweetheart?"Her voice drifted softly from behind me as she crossed through the door with her arms full of boxes.

"Nothing, Mom... I'm making a list to organize our new place."I lied, my voice trembling, quickly hiding the paper where I'd written down all the required qualities.

"Oh, look at you!"Her face lit up with a tired smile. "A furniture list? Or maybe you're picking the color for your room, my little Leo?"

I turned slowly toward her, studying her face — her brown eyes, so deep, her lips curving into that smile she only ever gives me. I decided to go for the question I'd been preparing for days.

"Mommy... what kind of men do you like?"

She froze in the doorway. Her eyes went wide, and an intense blush painted her cheeks all the way to her ears. She swallowed hard, as if the air had been sucked out of the room.

"Well... I like good ones,"she whispered, walking over to touch my cheek gently with her index finger. "Just like my prince... You're the best man I've ever known in my life."

"Okay... but what else? Do you like them tall? Light hair or dark?"I pressed, feeling my heart race.

"Leo..."Her voice turned serious, and her brows furrowed with concern. "What are you up to, son? Why these strange questions?"

"Nothing, Mommy, just curious. What was my dad like? Was he tall, handsome, good-natured like you always say?"

That question always moves us both. For me, it's a mystery I want to unravel. For her, it's a wound that never fully healed.

"Well... you look so much like him, so yes," "she said, her voice breaking, pulling me tight against her chest."You were just as small, just as sweet... but you, my prince, are so much better than he ever was.

"Don't you really want a husband, Mommy? Don't you think the three of us would be happier?"

"I don't think I need anyone else in my life, sweetheart,"she whispered, pressing a kiss into my hair. "Because I have the whole world right here in my hands. I have you."

"Really?" "I asked, my voice cracking."

"Really, my love. Come on, let's go brush our teeth. Tomorrow's your first day at the new school, and I don't want you showing up tired."

Mom won't admit it yet, but I can't give up. This mission is more important than anything else in my life. I will find her a husband, whatever it takes.

***

The next morning, we got ready together like always. She combed my hair patiently, untangling each curl with care so it wouldn't hurt. She put me in the blue plaid shirt I love, adjusting the cuffs just right. I helped her fasten the top button of her white blouse — the one that always slips above the collar. When we were done, she took my hand and we headed to school.

While she handled the paperwork in the principal's office, I stayed in the hallway, scanning every corner with wide-open eyes. I searched every face, every tall figure that passed by. I needed to find someone who met all the requirements.

"Hey, buddy! Are you new here?"

I whipped my head around and saw a man approaching with a warm smile. He was tall — over six feet, I was sure — with short brown hair and eyes that sparkled with kindness.

"Good morning, sir. Yes, I'm a new student at this school,"I answered, extending my hand with the manners Mom taught me.

"Wow, what great manners this little guy has!"he exclaimed, shaking my hand with just the right amount of grip. "I'm Nahuel, the math teacher. But for you, just Nahuel."

"My name is Leandro Santilla. It's a pleasure to meet you, Professor,"I insisted on the respectful address, because Mom says good manners open every door.

"This is the first time I've met a ten-year-old this polished and well-mannered," "he said with admiration, placing a hand on my shoulder."I really like that.

Right then, I heard Mom's voice echoing down the hallway with a note of anger.

"Leo! Why did you wander off? Didn't I tell you to stay close to me?"

She strode over with firm steps, her brows furrowed, that little crease between them that appears whenever she's upset or worried. But then she turned her head and met Nahuel's gaze.

"Good morning, Professor," "she said, extending her hand with an elegance only she possesses."

"Now I see where this little guy gets his good manners," "Nahuel replied, shaking her hand warmly, his eyes never leaving her for a single second."It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am.

Mom shot me an accusatory look that said more than a thousand words. She already knew I was up to something. But I just smiled innocently.

"Mommy, can I go to my new classroom now? The principal said she'd take me herself," "I said, hurrying to give them a little time alone."

"Yes, sweetheart. Behave on your first day, make lots of friends, and don't forget to eat all of your snack."She kissed my forehead, then turned back to Nahuel. "Nice to meet you, Professor. See you soon."

I watched her walk away with that confident stride of hers, while the professor followed her with his eyes until she disappeared through the hallway door. When he finally lost sight of her, he turned to me, and his face was as red as a ripe tomato.

"My mom's really pretty, don't you think, Professor?" "I said with a mischievous grin."

"Excuse me?... Yes, of course,"he whispered, running a hand through his hair nervously. "You have a very... lovely mother. Come on, Leandro, let me walk you to your classroom before class starts."

***

I rushed through the streets, trying to straighten my skirt and hold my bag with one hand while checking the time on my old wristwatch with the other. I had to make it to the job interview on time — this was the opportunity I needed to give Leo a stable life. But first, I'd need to have a serious talk with that little devil. Does he really see me as that lonely or sad that he's out looking for a partner for me? I couldn't believe it...

At the entrance to the luxurious Rose Garden Hotel, I spotted Rafael waiting for me. His tall, lean figure stood out among the crowd coming and going. His brown eyes glinted with impatience when he saw me approaching.

"Girl, I told you to be on time! You're going to let the opportunity of a lifetime slip away!"he shouted from the sidewalk, drawing stares from passersby.

"But there are still five minutes until nine," "I replied, showing him my watch with confidence."

"Get rid of that watch, it's obsolete, Briella! It's already past nine-ten!"He grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the entrance. "Come on, run, before they close registration."

Damn... he was right. My watch had fallen behind again. Inside, I saw a long line of people waiting for the same receptionist position. Having so many competitors was a disadvantage, but it was also a sign that the job was good — excellent pay, and the schedule would let me take care of Leo without any problems.

This hotel had been one of the most exclusive in the city when I fled eleven years ago. I never imagined I'd have to come back to this place, where I'd lived some of the happiest moments — and the most painful ones — of my life. But here I was, ready to face the past and move forward with my son.

One by one, people went in for their interviews, until I finally heard my name: "Briella Santilla, please." I smoothed the wrinkles on my black skirt with trembling hands, took a deep breath, and walked in determined to get that position.

The interview was brief but intense. They examined my resume carefully, reviewing every page. In the end, they told me the results would be sent via email within the next few hours. I walked out of the room on shaking legs. Hopefully luck would be on my side this time.

"How did it go, Briella?" "Rafael asked when I came out, his brow creased with worry."

"I think it went well... there were a lot of people, so all I can do now is wait and see what fate has in store for us," "I replied, sitting down on a bench near the entrance."

"I really hope so, girl! You have no idea how much I missed you and Leo all these years."He hugged me tight, and I felt the weight of the years lighten just a little. "I'm so glad you decided to come back."

"I'm happy to be here too, Rafa,"I whispered, hugging him back. "I missed this city. I missed your nonsense. I missed having someone I could trust."

"And... will you be okay here?" "he asked, leaning closer with a serious expression."Are you sure you want to come back to the place where... where it all happened?

"Of course,"I answered firmly. "It's been eleven years, Rafa. Those people probably don't even remember me. I'm sure they're perfectly happy now, enjoying their lives... just like I'm happy with my Leo. He's the man of my life, and with him, I'm the luckiest woman in the world."

"Those bastards don't deserve a shred of happiness,"Rafael growled, clenching his fists. "Especially Octavio... that coward who left you like that..."

"Please, Rafa, I don't want to talk about that on the first day we're seeing each other again," "I said, my voice strained, then laughed loudly to change the subject."Tell me what you've been up to all these years instead. Have you found the woman of your life? Do you have a girlfriend?

"I did, until three months ago,"he answered, shrugging with a sad smile. "But I don't think I'm made for commitment, Briella. I'm a disaster at that stuff."

"Don't say that, Rafa."I gave him a gentle punch on the arm. "You're an excellent man, don't ever forget it. And you'll see" you'll find someone who values everything good about you.

After a short silence, I kept talking, feeling how the laughter soothed my soul.

"But let me tell you about your godson's antics. Can you believe he's running a secret campaign to find me a husband? He even made a list of requirements!"

"Ha ha ha! What a little rascal!"He burst out laughing, slapping his knee. "Well, honestly, it took him long enough to get on that. You need to start living again, Briella. You have the right to be happy too."

I ignored his last words and kept telling him about Leo's mischief — our moves, his schoolwork, our plans for the future. There was no point discussing my personal life. He knew perfectly well why I'd locked my heart away for good.

As I walked through the streets of my hometown, my steps felt heavy, as if I were carrying stones in my shoes. Rafa's words kept circling in my head like wounded birds: "You have the right to be happy too." How was I supposed to trust anyone again after what I'd been through? If I could shout it from the rooftops, I would — never fall in love with someone who hasn't closed their past chapters, with someone who carries another woman in their heart like a hidden treasure. Because you'll only ever live in the shadow of that memory, an imperfect copy of someone you're not, with no place of your own in a story that was never yours to begin with.

I still remember how I met Octavio in our final year of university. We ended up in the same modern literature class, and from the very first moment he looked at me with those deep brown eyes, my feelings began to bloom like a lotus flower opening its petals to the first ray of sun. When the course ended, I worked up the courage to invite him to dinner at a small restaurant on the main plaza. I asked him to be my boyfriend with trembling hands and a shaking voice. When he said yes with that smile that stole my breath, I felt my heart pound so hard it might burst out of my chest.

I never noticed a single sign that something was wrong. His family welcomed me as if I were one of their own. His mother embraced me with warmth, his father praised my good manners, and Nadia, his sister, seemed happy to have a sister-in-law. Two years later, we got married. I was the happiest woman in the world, convinced I'd found my place in the universe. I supported Octavio in his career, made his coffee with exactly two sugars every morning, ironed his suit with care, and listened to him for hours when he came home tired from work. I did everything I could to turn our home into a paradise — a refuge where he could find peace.

I truly was blissful during those four years. But life is no fairy tale, and sometimes it acts like a wicked bitch who gets her kicks from shredding the most beautiful dreams. I remember that night with perfect clarity.

I came home after twelve hours of work, exhausted but eager to prepare the dinner we'd planned. In the entryway of the living room, I saw something that froze my blood — a large pink leather suitcase, a pair of high-heeled shoes that weren't mine, and a trail of perfume that was completely foreign to me. My stomach clenched, and I had to grab the wall to keep from falling.

Cheerful laughter drifted from the kitchen. I recognized Octavio's and Nadia's, but there was another voice — sweet and melodic — that I didn't know. My husband was the first to see me. He came out of the kitchen with a gleam in his eyes I'd never seen before. He was so happy, so radiant, that I didn't recognize the man I'd shared my life with for years.

"Honey, look," "he said, taking my hand tenderly."This is Roxana, a very dear friend of my family.

Friend? Her face did look familiar. I'd seen plenty of photos at my mother-in-law's house — Octavio, Nadia, and this woman, smiling together at the beach, at birthday parties, on countryside outings. Every time I asked who she was, the answer was always the same: "She's my best friend," "She's the sweetest person," "The whole family adores her."

I didn't think much of it at the time. I was never a jealous woman. I didn't let myself be swayed by appearances or rumors. Though it was true that Roxana was extraordinarily beautiful — long blonde hair like a river of gold, eyes that seemed to see right through to the bottom of your soul, and a presence that filled any room she entered. After the introductions, Octavio informed me she'd be staying with us for "a short while."

Within weeks, I no longer recognized my own home. Roxana took over the guest bedroom next to ours, and little by little, she changed every corner. She replaced my cotton curtains with cream-colored silk ones, rearranged the furniture to give the living room "more light," hung her photos on walls where I'd once placed artwork I'd chosen with such care. My space, my home, was vanishing like smoke in the sun.

One afternoon, I came home early from work and found her in the living room wearing tight shorts and a sleeveless blouse that bared her shoulders. She was walking barefoot across the hardwood floors as if she owned the place, laughing with Nadia while they rummaged through the fridge. As if she weren't invading the intimacy of a newlywed couple. As if I didn't exist.

Determined to reclaim my territory, I approached her with clenched fists.

"Roxana... what do you think you're doing?"

She turned to me with an ironic smile, as if my question were the dumbest thing she'd ever heard.

"Oh, Briella! You're home... don't be such a buzzkill," "she said, flipping her hair from one side to the other."

Behind her, Nadia appeared, taking her side with that infuriating calm she always had.

"Sis, come on,"she whispered, taking my arm. "It's a beautiful day. We should be enjoying the outdoors. Don't sweat the small stuff."

The entire time she was there, Roxana never showed the slightest interest in getting to know me. She ignored me like I was just another piece of furniture, referred to me in the third person while I was standing right there, and never once invited me to join her outings or her chats with Nadia. I felt like the unwelcome guest in the home I'd built with so much love.

When Octavio came home that night, I asked him to explain how much longer she'd be staying. The weeks had turned into months, and that "short while" seemed to have no end in sight.

"I'm uncomfortable,"I told him, my voice trembling with emotion. "We don't have a single corner left where we can just be a couple. Can't she stay with your mother and sister?"

He shrugged, not meeting my eyes — another sign I should have caught.

"She's going through a rough time," "he replied coldly."Don't be mean, Briella. She needs us. Besides, you know my mother and sister are never home.

I didn't understand my husband. He'd never been a particularly generous man — quite stingy, actually — and suddenly he was willing to let a stranger invade our lives. On top of that, we stopped being intimate. He said we needed to "respect our guest," that it wasn't appropriate to do things in the house while she was there. When I pushed back, his answer was always the same:

"She's my lifelong best friend, Briella. The three of us grew up together. I can't leave her alone in this situation."

But that line — "she's going through a rough time" — never added up. Roxana didn't act like someone who was suffering. She spent her days shopping at the most expensive boutiques in the city, went out with friends until late, and when she was home, she was all smiles — radiant and carefree. But I kept quiet. I kept trying to be the understanding wife he deserved.

Two weeks before our wedding anniversary, I pinned all my hopes on that day. I'd planned everything meticulously — a weekend at the hotel where we'd spent our honeymoon, a romantic dinner on the terrace overlooking the lake. I'd even bought him the leather wristwatch he'd been eyeing in the jewelry store window downtown.

The big day came, and I went to pick him up at his office with the suitcase packed and the gift wrapped in gold ribbon. But the confused look on his face, the surprise twisting his features, made it perfectly clear — he'd forgotten entirely.

"I'm sorry, honey... I... I can't go away this weekend,"he began, his voice low and evasive.

"We're not going?" "I asked, clinging to the last drop of hope left in my chest."

"We can go out for dinner somewhere," "he said, stroking my cheek."But the trip's off. I promise I'll make it up to you later, babe.

"Fine,"I answered, feeling my heart shatter into a thousand pieces, tears burning my eyes. "Let's go to dinner, then."

That night, for the first time in a long while, Octavio smiled at me with genuine affection. He seemed to really love the watch. We ended the night in a hotel room, because we couldn't even be alone as a couple in our own house anymore. Lying in bed together, a question that had been tormenting me for days slipped out before I could stop it.

"Octavio... do you think Roxana is pretty?"

He held me tight, pressing his face into my hair.

"Briella, she's like another sister to me,"he whispered. "The three of us grew up together. You're the only beautiful woman in my eyes."

I was stupid. Naive. Blind. There's no way to justify why I kept staying in a place that was no longer my home, with a man who was no longer my husband.

Inevitably, Roxana became another member of the family — though one entirely unwanted by me. I tried to cling tooth and nail to the idea that it was fine for my husband to have a female friend. I didn't want to be that toxic woman who ruins her relationship with pathological jealousy, and I stupidly, naively believed that under my own roof, in the home we'd built together, nothing bad could ever happen. My heart pounded wildly, fighting with all its strength against the mistrust that had settled like a dark shadow in the depths of my chest.

But it all came crashing down in one fell swoop a week later — one night when I came through the door exhausted, drained from a business trip that had left me without an ounce of strength. The living room was cold and empty. As I crept through the house step by step, I heard soft voices coming from the terrace — that terrace that was my pride, my refuge, my favorite place under the sky, where I'd spend hours reading or lost in the beauty of the sunsets. In that instant, my breath caught in my throat as if an invisible hand were strangling me.

I slipped off my shoes at the entrance, moving so silently that there was absolutely no way they could have known I was there, watching from the shadows. As I drew closer, I could see with horrifying clarity Roxana wearing an incredibly sensual nightgown — a fitted black slip that clung to her like a second skin. Across from her, Octavio sat in his most comfortable house clothes. On the table between them, a bottle of red wine glinted in the light, the glasses nearly empty, alongside some light food. The soft candlelight cast a romantic glow over them both, and the sight of it destroyed my world in a single glance.

The scene itself was unbearably raw, but what truly shattered me was the conversation they were having in hushed tones. Roxana asked him in a voice as sweet as honey, thick with nostalgia:

"You know... I never, ever forgot you. The best years of my life were spent by your side. But it hurt me so much" so much "to find out you got married. Why did you do it? Didn't you love me anymore... so you just forgot about me?"

"You know better than anyone that I always loved you," "Octavio replied, his voice heavy with a sadness that cut to the bone."

"Then why?"

"Because you left. I waited for you day after day, month after month... until one day I understood I had to move on with my life, the same way you were doing with yours."

"Do you love her?" "Roxana asked, direct, no beating around the bush."

"Briella is a wonderful woman... and she loves me very much."

"I asked if you love her, Octavio."

"I care about her," "he said, his head bowed, unable to meet her eyes."I've had a good life with her. But I could never love her the way I loved you, Roxi. No one in the world can compare to you in my heart. I thought that by marrying her, with her sincere love, I could forget about ours... but...

"But she could never compete with the memory of me,"Roxana finished, a victorious smile lighting up her face. "I don't blame her. Any woman would fall head over heels for someone as incredible as you, Octavio. I was a complete idiot to lose you."She let out a deep sigh. "If I hadn't, I'd be the one who was your wife right now, the one by your side, the one sharing your life. We were each other's first love... first everything... and that's something you never, ever forget."

"That would be beautiful,"Octavio murmured, "but Briella is my wife. I respect her as such... so let's stop talking about the past."

I couldn't take it a single second more. I turned on my heels and ran out of my own house as if hell itself were opening beneath my feet, fleeing to a nearby park where I let my anguish pour out in screams. I didn't know what hurt more — discovering that I was nothing but a replacement, a consolation prize to fill the void she'd left behind, or the terrible realization that my husband had never truly loved me. What would happen now that his real love had come back to claim the place she said had always been hers?

Maybe the two of them had already been together from the moment that woman set foot in my house... and they'd been laughing behind my back, laughing in my face while I knew nothing, while I was building dreams of a future that never existed. I didn't want to go back. I didn't have the strength to make a scene. So I got a hotel room and let loose all the pain that only betrayal can provoke — tears that seemed to have no end, a loneliness that squeezed my chest until I couldn't breathe, and an overwhelming shame at having been so blind, so foolishly blind.

I spent two days in that place — two interminable days during which I didn't receive a single text, a single phone call from Octavio asking where I was. Though I'd already resolved with absolute certainty that I wouldn't stay with him, I still needed to clear my mind before taking the next step — the hardest one of my life. Roxana had only been in the house for two months. Two miserable, filthy months were all it took to destroy three years of marriage, of shared dreams, of effort and sacrifice.

I went back home pretending nothing had happened, wearing a forced smile that ached down to the bones of my face. I walked in and found her there — Roxana, alone. I tried to pass by her, ignoring her existence as if she weren't there, but she stepped into my path and blocked the door with her hand, with an insolence that made me tremble with rage. What she said next didn't just surprise me — it gave me the key to how I'd proceed.

"You know... nobody wants to tell you the truth. I'm not really the good family friend you pretend to believe I am... I'm Octavio's ex-girlfriend," "she said, with a tone of superiority that made my stomach turn."But I think it's only fair you know, so you understand who you're dealing with.

"You know... I think your unlimited stay in my house leaves a lot to be desired... especially since you can't even clean up after yourself," "I replied, without looking her in the eye, holding back the fury that was consuming me with every ounce of willpower I had."

Her face turned a deep red with anger — a sight that was worth seeing. It was the first time since she'd arrived that we were alone, and I wasn't going to waste the chance to let her know exactly how much I hated everything about her... including her very presence in the home that was mine.

"Octavio loves me... and you're just my replacement!"she screamed at the top of her lungs, as if volume could make her words more true. "Though I have to admit, you're too cheap to fill my shoes. You don't compare to me in anything" not beauty, not brains, not anything.

"You want him back?" "I asked, with an icy calm that surprised even me."

"What...?"She went mute, thrown off by my question.

"If you want back everything that supposedly belongs to you... everything that I, according to you, have been using at my leisure all these years."

"Of course I do! You had yourself a nice life taking advantage of my absence, but now that I'm back... I'm going to reclaim everything. Absolutely everything,"she declared triumphantly, her head held high.

"Good. Then get Octavio to sign the divorce papers... and I'll leave without another word."

"Really?"

"I have no reason to lie to you." You said it yourself "I enjoyed everything that was yours until I was sick of it. I rolled around with Octavio so many times there's no thrill left... and now that you're here, I don't see the point in staying in a place that isn't even mine anymore, because you've flooded it with your things, your scent, your shadow."

"I don't believe a word of it. Why would you give all this up so easily? Aren't you afraid of losing everything?"

"Easily?"I smiled coldly. "None of this has been easy. But I don't like taking what isn't mine... and I'm not going to waste another second of my life beside someone who doesn't love me, who never loved me the way I deserved."I pulled the divorce papers from my purse with steady hands. "Here they are, so all that's missing is his signature. You can read them over as much as you want... no tricks, no traps."

"Good... I'm glad you're being sensible and understand that he will never love you the way he loves me. You'll never fill the void I left in his heart."

"Whatever," "I replied, indifferent."Just make it quick... and keep him away from the house so I can pack my things without him knowing, without having to see him, without having to hear him.

"You're really not planning something? Why don't you want to face him? Why slink off like a rat with your tail between your legs?"

"Because I have no desire to hear a single cheap excuse about how he had fun playing with my feelings,"I answered, my voice firm and steady. "Besides, you should be the most grateful that I want to do it this way. You know, I could take the opportunity to seduce him one last time... and if I got pregnant, I could postpone the divorce indefinitely... and also get a nice chunk of money, plus the perfect excuse to keep seeing him forever, to stay in his life for good."

"You're a shameless, greedy, cruel woman!"she shouted, indignant.

"Thank you,"I laughed, coldly, without a shred of remorse. "I'm proud of it, too. So you know what to do" keep him away from the house. I don't want to see him again.

The truth was, I didn't want to see either of them ever again, not even in a photograph. But I would take everything that truly belonged to me — my dignity, my hope of love for the future, and the little miracle growing inside my womb, a secret I guarded with my life... without anyone knowing.