Rodrigo stepped out first.
He wore the same navy blazer he used whenever he wanted people to think he mattered. The same expensive shoes I had bought him two Christmases earlier. The same face—except this morning, it did not show guilt or shame.
It showed annoyance.
As if I had inconvenienced him.
Valeria got out from the passenger seat.
She was dressed in white.
Not a wedding dress. Worse. A soft linen jumpsuit, expensive sandals, gold hoops, and glossy hair falling down her back like a shampoo advertisement. A ring flashed on her left hand in the morning light.
For one second, I stared at it, and something inside my chest made a small, dry sound.
Then Rodrigo saw the chain on the door.
His expression changed.
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