After leaving her standing in the doorway, I walked with purpose to the bedroom and started packing my things. But what I found was a scene that wounded me more than I thought possible. Several of my belongings had been moved to places I never would have chosen. Clothes were missing — even the pearl earrings Octavio gave me for our first anniversary, the ones he said were so special because "they were like me, unique and precious." And our wedding photo, the one that had always sat on the vanity in plain sight, now lay abandoned in the bottom drawer of the closet, like a worthless forgotten thing. It seemed I needn't have even bothered packing. They'd been pushing me out of my own life for some time now, without saying a word, as though I were a stranger in the home I'd built with my own hands.
I wouldn't take a single gift he'd ever given me. None of his presents would have a place on my new path, because they'd only be chains tormenting me day and night, reminding me of the deception. I packed only what was truly mine — the clothes I'd bought with my own money, my books that had kept me company through so many lonely nights, the photos of my family, the only ones that gave me any real warmth. When almost everything was ready, I went down to the bathroom... and there was Roxana, head held high, wearing the black lace bra I'd been desperately searching for in my closet just minutes ago. My blood boiled, a fire of rage burning me from the inside out, but I held myself together with every ounce of strength I had. It wasn't worth losing control anymore.
Before I could open my mouth to confront her, I heard the front door creak open. There was no point in fighting now. I just had to hold on a little longer — endure until I could disappear from here for good. I watched her sprint out like a teenager, throwing herself into Octavio's arms... but his eyes, instead of seeking her, locked onto mine with a bewilderment that seemed to say he was seeing me for the first time in years.
"You're finally back, Briella. How was the trip?" "he asked in a voice that tried to sound affectionate but now rang as hollow as a toy coin."
"Better than expected," "I replied dryly, turning my back on him and continuing to search every corner of the bathroom for my things, as if nothing else mattered. A short while later, I felt his presence behind me and heard his voice again."
"Is something wrong, dear? I missed you so much."
Ha — what a pathetic question! How did he have the nerve to say that after everything he'd done to me? He'd even let that shameless woman wear my underwear, as if my privacy meant nothing at all.
"No, I'm just tired,"I murmured, without looking at him.
Roxana intercepted him in an instant, tugging his arm with a seductive smile and asking him to take her out to eat. But he didn't seem the least bit inclined to accept.
"Roxana, my wife just got home and she's exhausted," "he said in a direct tone."Besides, I haven't seen her in over a week. I want to spend time with her.
I did everything I could to convince him to go with her, to leave me alone the way he always had.
"You two can go. I want to go to bed early, and I'm not hungry."
"But babe, if you don't want to go out, then I'll stay with you. Does your head hurt from the trip? Is it because I took too long this time?"
"It's fine. Take her. I prefer the quiet,"I answered, not taking my eyes off the shelf where I used to keep my face cream, now empty. "I have things to sort out, and I'm very tired."
His gaze lingered on me for a few seconds, as if trying to read my mind, before he nodded. He left a kiss on my forehead and wished me a good rest. Did he care so little that he didn't even hesitate before leaving? Had he never known me well enough to realize I was shattered inside? Of course not. He'd never taken the time to see me — to truly know who Briella was — because his mind had always been occupied with her, with the memory of what they'd been.
That night, while my husband was out enjoying himself with his lover at some restaurant we'd probably once chosen together, I picked up my phone and called my best friend, Rafael. I asked him to come help me move my things out before dawn. I was certain that by the next morning, that woman would have already gotten him to sign the divorce papers. There was no point in dragging out something that had been broken for a long time.
Rafa arrived furious, his eyes blazing with anger, begging me not to keep quiet, to trash the place, to expose them both for the frauds they were.
"Why the hell did you do that?! You should've gathered all the evidence of his cheating and dragged him straight to court! Then everyone would know what kind of pathetic man he is" letting himself get pulled back into the past and treating you like garbage! "he shouted, indignant, while hauling a box of my books."
I understood his anger. I understood it perfectly. But I was too worn out — exhausted from crying, from suffering, from fighting for something that was never truly mine.
"I just want to leave and put it all behind me, Rafa. You know I'm no good at drama... and I don't want to be known as the cheated-on wife who got laughed at, the fool who believed in fairy tales," "I said, my voice broken but firm."
I managed to persuade him not to do anything rash. After he left with nearly all my belongings in his truck, I lay down on the bed I'd once shared with Octavio. The room felt empty, enormous... but also free, as if a heavy chain had just snapped.
The next morning, Octavio told me he'd be going away for a few days, which meant I could leave in complete peace. Roxana, for her part, appeared before me with a victorious smile, holding up the papers, already signed. Though from the way he looked at me before he left, I doubted he truly understood what he'd put his name to. He acted the same as always, as if nothing had changed.
But that wasn't my problem anymore. I finished gathering the last of my things while watching her parade around the living room, satisfied with the outcome of her game. Before closing the door of my house for the last time, I stopped to take one final look at what I'd believed was my home — the furniture we'd picked out together, arguing and laughing; the walls we'd painted by hand; the entire dream that had dissolved like smoke in the wind. I left behind forever that marriage and the man who was never mine.
***
Weeks later, while settling into a small rented apartment, the doctor confirmed what I already knew — I was pregnant. It was the result of that single night we'd shared at the hotel, right before I discovered his betrayal... the night I thought I'd gotten my husband back, the night he held me as if he truly cared. What kind of consolation prize did you leave me, Octavio? A baby who would be born without knowing his father. But in that moment, I knew I would fight for him with everything I had, no matter how hard the road ahead.
This baby was my child too, and he shouldn't have to pay for his father's sins. The word "abortion" never once crossed my mind. I wasn't about to become a killer just to please those two wretches. The months that followed were a challenge unlike anything I'd faced. I'd quit my job when I divorced, and now, pregnant and without support, no one wanted to hire me. I fought day after day, taking temporary jobs, selling some of my possessions, just to put food on the table and pay the rent. Until the great day arrived when I gave birth to Leandro in a city far away from here — far from everyone who knew me and might judge me.
A beautiful, chubby baby with light eyes and a smile that lit up my entire world. He restored my hope and my faith in real love — the kind that doesn't need empty promises or deception. That little piece of heaven gave me the will to live again. He became my engine, my reason for every breath I took, for every effort I made.
The years that followed were even harder. With a baby to care for, scarce work for a single mother with responsibilities, every day was a battle. It wasn't easy at all, if I'm being honest, but I never regretted it for a single second. Leo gave me the energy I needed to keep going, to never give up, to smile despite all the pain of the past.
Ten long years went by like that, until the economic situation forced me to return to this city, searching for something better to offer my prince. My professional standing had declined significantly because of the part-time, entry-level jobs I'd had to accept, so I couldn't aspire to a high-level position like the one I'd held at my old company. But even so, giving up was not in my plans.
Now my best chance was landing that position at the hotel. That way, I could rebuild my financial stability and become again the woman who once had resources and a decent salary. The skills were still there — I'd been the best in my field — but eleven years out of the market had left me at a disadvantage. Still, here I was, ready to fight. For my son, I'd make it happen. For him, I would do whatever it took.
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