A man in a gray suit walked down the center aisle. It was Arturo Salcedo, Julián’s lawyer. Two people followed him, each carrying a black briefcase and a portable screen.
His voice was firm and cold.
“By the strict instructions of Mr. Julián Mendoza, no burial will take place until this video is shown.”
Doña Teresa smiled proudly, as if she thought it was a tribute to her.
But when my husband’s face appeared on the screen and he spoke the first sentence, my mother-in-law turned pale.
I could not believe what was about to happen.
PART 2
Julián’s image filled the screen in front of the altar.
It was not a normal farewell video. There was no sad music, no family slideshow, no soft memories. Julián was sitting in his office, wearing the same blue shirt he had worn two days before his death. His face looked tired, his eyes dark, but his gaze was steady.
“If you are watching this,” he said, “it means I did not make it alive to my own funeral.”
