And then, just when the ceremony reached that suspended moment where the world seems to stop, the church doors swung open.The sharp click of high heels echoed against the marble floor—loud, dry, completely out of place. As if someone were applauding a tragedy.I turned around.Álvaro, my son-in-law, walked in laughing.He didn’t move slowly, didn’t cross himself, didn’t make even the smallest gesture of respect—the kind you show even when you feel nothing. He entered as if he were late to a birthday party. His jacket was flawless, his hair perfectly styled, and on his arm was a young woman in a red dress, wearing a smile far too confident for someone standing before a coffin.Some guests began to whisper. Others froze. One woman covered her mouth. The priest stood speechless, book open in his hands. And Álvaro, as if nothing were wrong, said loudly:Wow, we’re late… traffic downtown is insane.The woman in red glanced around curiously, like someone stepping into a new venue. Her eyes landed on me. And as she passed by, she leaned in slightly, as though she were about to offer condolences… but instead she whispered, with a coldness that still burns in my memory:

I guess I won.That was the moment something inside me shattered forever.I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw myself at both of them, rip that red dress off with my bare hands, slam her face into the floor. I wanted to do so much… but I did nothing. I clenched my jaw, fixed my eyes on the coffin, and took a deep breath, because if I had opened my mouth, it wouldn’t have been a scream that came out—it would have been an animal.Lucía had come to my house some nights wearing long sleeves in the middle of summer. “I’m just cold, Mom,” she would say. And I pretended to believe her. Other times she arrived with a forced smile and that strange shine in her eyes—the one you recognize when someone has cried in the bathroom and washed their face so no one notices. “Álvaro’s just stressed,” she repeated, as if that sentence could excuse anythingwould tell her, “Come stay with me, sweetheart. You’re safe here.”And she would answer, “No, Mom, he’s going to change… once the baby is born, he’ll change.”