Carmen and Lucía exchanged a look. The pattern was becoming clear.
Alejandro returned the next day, impeccably dressed, wearing his usual refined cologne and the carefully rehearsed expression of concern he displayed so well in public.
“How is she?” he asked at the nurses’ station.
“Stable,” Carmen answered evenly.
A slight tightening in his jaw gave him away, though he quickly masked it. Lucía caught it when he entered her room.
“Love…” he said gently, approaching her bed. “You look pale.”
Lucía kept her breathing shallow, eyes barely open.
“I’m tired,” she murmured.
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