I looked at my guests and said evenly,
“I think it’s time for you to see the surprise.”
The noise inside grew louder. Shock spread across every face.
For a moment, no one moved. Then Doña Carmen stood, pale, her rosary trembling in her hand. She walked toward the hallway as the pleas continued. I unlocked the door slowly and stepped aside, letting the truth speak for itself.
Javier emerged wrapped in a towel, his face twisted with shame. Behind him was María, crying, trying to cover herself. The silence that followed was heavier than any argument.
I didn’t explain. I didn’t accuse. The disappointment in their eyes said everything.
I pointed toward the backyard.
“Your belongings are outside. This is no longer your home.”
Javier tried to speak—to apologize, to promise. I raised my hand.
“Not now. Leave.”
They did. He without looking back. She with her head lowered.
Only after the door closed did I finally breathe.
That night, I slept alone—but peacefully.
