“She can’t,” Alejandro replied, lowering his voice into a tragic tone. “Ever since the tragedy with our daughter, she’s been extremely fragile. She can hardly tolerate being around strangers.”
Mariana lifted her head, her stomach sinking.
“That must be very difficult on you,” Sergio observed sympathetically.
Alejandro sighed heavily. “Well, you don’t abandon someone when they’re broken. I’ve had to cancel business trips, miss important meetings, even pass up career opportunities because she calls me having a panic attack and I have to rush home. Some weeks, she practically doesn’t leave the house.”
A cold chill moved down Mariana’s spine.
None of it was true.
For two years, she hadn’t once asked him to cancel a trip. She ran her own errands, bought groceries, visited her sister across town, and had even begun reading medical journals again.
While Mariana quietly tried to rebuild her life, Alejandro had been constructing a story at work about a helpless, unstable wife who survived only because of his noble sacrifice.
Shortly after nine, Sergio said goodbye.
Mariana waited until the front door clicked shut before leaving the bedroom to clear the table.
Suddenly, a man called from the entryway. “I’m so sorry, I forgot my cell phone on the side table!”
Sergio had returned.
The moment he looked up and saw Mariana beside the dining table, he froze.
He stared for several seconds as the color drained from his face.
“Dr. Torres?”
Alejandro appeared behind him, panic instantly tightening his expression. “You… you two know each other?”
Sergio didn’t even glance at Alejandro. He kept staring at Mariana. “You operated on my son.”
Mariana slowly lowered the plate to the table. “What was his name?”
“Daniel Mendoza,” Sergio whispered, his voice trembling slightly. “He was ten years old. He came into the trauma bay at two in the morning after a terrible fall. The ER team told us he probably wouldn’t survive the night.”
The memory returned like lightning.
A pale boy.
A terrified father in the corridor.
Four agonizing hours in surgery.
“Daniel…” she breathed.
Sergio smiled, his eyes suddenly filling with tears. “He’s alive, Doctor. He’s twenty-three now.”
For a second, Mariana forgot to breathe. “Truly?”
“He’s in his final year of medical school,” Sergio said, taking a step toward her. “He wants to be a trauma surgeon. Just like you.”
Sergio took out a business card and gently placed it on the table. “I’ve spent thirteen years wishing I could find you to say thank you.”
Alejandro remained rigid in the hallway, jaw clenched and posture tight with anger.
After Sergio finally left, Alejandro slammed the door and spun toward his wife. “Did you seriously have to come wandering out the second he walked back in?!”
Mariana stared at him, unable to understand his reaction. “That’s what you’re worried about?”
“I’ve spent six months building a professional relationship with that man!”
“And to build it, you told him I was an invalid who can’t handle being around people!”
“Don’t exaggerate!”
“I heard you, Alejandro!”
Alejandro’s expression hardened, his voice turning razor-sharp. “So you were eavesdropping on private conversations, too?”
“You told him you canceled business trips because of my ‘crises’!”
“It was just a convenient way to explain certain work issues to management!”
“It never happened!”
Alejandro gave a dry, condescending laugh. “Look at you. One person recognizes you after thirteen years and suddenly you feel like the great Dr. Mariana Torres again.”
The insult struck hard.
At that exact moment, Alejandro’s phone vibrated on the counter.
The screen lit with a text notification.
Before he snatched it away, Mariana caught the message from a contact named Chloe:
“So is he giving you the promotion tonight? After you get it, you’re finally going to tell her the truth, right?”
Alejandro grabbed the phone and shoved it into his pocket.
