—I’m not going to justify it. I’m not going to say I did it because you called my brother every time we argued. I’m not going to pretend I was a victim.
He looked at Ernesto.
—I was a coward. Instead of ending a marriage I knew was broken, I ran away.
Then he returned to Vera.
—But you didn’t want this marriage either.
-Of course!
—You wanted to be a Valdés.
She paled.
—That’s cruel.
—Is it a lie?
He did not respond.
Daniel took out a folder.
—Three months before our wedding, Vera wrote to Adrian.
She stood up abruptly.
-No!
Adrian’s expression also changed.
Daniel left several printed sheets on the table.
I didn’t want to look.
But Ernesto took the first one.
He read.
Her face turned to stone.
—Adrian.
My husband did not respond.
Ernesto passed me the sheet.
There was an email.
From Vera to Adrián.
If you tell me not to marry Daniel, I won’t.
I felt my chest emptying.
Date: three months before their wedding.
Further down was Adrian’s answer.
Just four words.
Marry my brother.
I looked up.
I didn’t know what to feel.
Daniel spoke.
—Do you want to read the rest?
I didn’t answer.
—I did read them all.
Vera was crying openly.
—You checked my email!
—After finding transfers from my brother paying for your apartment, yes.
Adrian approached.
—Those messages are private.
Daniel got up.
—She was my wife!
—And nothing happened.
—That’s what you still don’t understand.
Daniel tapped the leaves with a finger.
« They didn’t need to sleep together. She was in love with you when she married me. You knew it. And yet you still pressured me into marrying her. »
Ernesto looked at Adrian.
-It’s true?
Adrian closed his eyes for a few seconds.
-Yeah.
His mother put a hand to her mouth.
I remained motionless.
« Why? » Daniel asked.
Adrian took a while to respond.
—Because I thought it would pass.
Daniel let out an incredulous laugh.
—And I was the treatment?
—You were obsessed with her.
—I was twenty-four years old.
—You said you wanted to get married.
—And you knew she loved you!
—I thought that with time…
-Exact.
Daniel approached until he was standing in front of him.
—You always decide for everyone.
Nobody was breathing.
—You decided that Vera would marry me.
—You decided that I had to grow up.
—You decided that Clara had to accept you the way you are.
—You decided that as long as you paid for houses, contracts and credit cards, nobody had the right to demand anything from you.
Adrian looked at him coldly.
—You have no moral authority to speak.
Daniel nodded.
—Probably not.
Then he pointed towards me.
—But she did.
All eyes turned to me.
I got up.
—I didn’t come here for this.
Ernesto grabbed my wrist.
—Clara.
His voice was different.
Softer.
—Do you want a divorce too?
-Yeah.
The old man closed his eyes.
—By Vera?
I looked at Adrian.
-No.
He seemed surprised.
—For him.
Adrian’s face changed.
I continued:
—Vera only revealed what already existed. If it weren’t her, it would have been something else someday.
Ernesto nodded slowly.
-I understand.
Adrian took a step.
-Grandfather…
-Be quiet.
I had never heard Ernesto speak to her like that.
—I’ve spent thirty years telling everyone that you were the responsible man for this family.
He hit the cane.
—Perhaps we taught you how to manage companies and forgot to teach you how to deal with people.
Adrian went white.
Vera sobbed.
—This is all my fault.
Daniel denied it.
—No. That’s another problem with this family. We always need a single culprit so we don’t have to look at the whole mess.
I was surprised to hear it.
Perhaps Daniel had matured while no one was watching.
Ernesto let go of my hand.
—Do what you need to do, Clara.
Adrian looked at him.
—Are you supporting divorce?
—I support your wife’s right to decide about her own life.
That sentence ended the conversation.
The legal battle lasted less than expected.
Not because Adrián changed his mind.
But because Ernesto intervened.
Two days later, Adrian’s lawyer called Isabel.
They agreed to negotiate.
I only asked to keep my assets from before the marriage and to renounce any participation in the Valdés estate.
When Adrian saw the conditions, he reappeared at my apartment.
This time the janitor wouldn’t let him go up.
I went downstairs because I didn’t want to hide anymore.
I was sitting in the lobby.
When he saw me, he stood up.
—Do you really not want anything?
—I want a divorce.
—You could claim half of several investments made during the marriage.
—I don’t want them.
—The house.
-No.
—Actions.
-No.
For the first time, he lost his composure.
—So what the hell do you want from me?
I looked at him.
-Nothing.
That word hurt him.
I saw it clearly.
Perhaps more than any insult.
-Don’t say that.
-It’s the truth.
-It just can’t be.
-Because?
—Because you loved me.
-Yeah.
—For ten years.
-Yeah.
—And now you simply don’t want anything?
I took a deep breath.
—That’s the problem, Adrian. For years I wanted so many things from you that I ended up accepting crumbs as if they were gifts.
I observed him.
—I wanted you to ask me how I was.
—That you would remember my birthday.
—That you might one day choose to stay with me.
—That when I cried, it didn’t seem to bother you.
—That you touched me because you desired me and not because your grandfather wanted a great-grandchild.
He lowered his gaze.
—Clara…
—I wanted you to love me.
I felt a lump in my throat, but I kept going.
—Now I don’t want to ask you anymore.
We remained silent.
Then he did something that Adrián Valdés never did.
He sat down.
As if his legs had stopped supporting him.
-I did not know.
-I know.
—I thought you were okay.
—I know that too.
—You never said…
I laughed softly.
—Adrian, I told you hundreds of times.
He looked up.
—Except you considered every attempt a scene.
There was no response.
-Signature.
I left.
He signed three days later.
Homeless.
No shares.
No strings attached.
He only asked for one thing.
A conversation before presenting the agreement.
I accepted.
We met in a discreet cafe overlooking the bay.
She had lost weight.
I wasn’t wearing the ring anymore.
His eyes stopped on my hand.
—You have a mark left.
—He will leave.
He nodded.
—I suppose so.
For a while we stared at the water.
Finally, he spoke.
—I was never in love with Vera.
I didn’t answer.
—I know it doesn’t matter anymore, but I need you to know.
-Alright.
« When we were young, she was always around. She was friends with Daniel. Then she started pursuing me. I knew she felt something. »
-I know.
—I never reciprocated.
—Adrian.
—Let me finish.
I did it.
—When Daniel said he wanted to marry her, I thought it was the perfect solution. He adored her. She would eventually forget about me. Everything would be sorted out.
I smiled sadly.
—People are not accounting balance sheets.
—I know it now.
Continuous.
—After the wedding they started fighting. Daniel would disappear for days. Vera would call me. I felt responsible because I had encouraged that marriage.
That explained a lot.
It didn’t justify anything.
« Every time she suffered, » he continued, « I thought it was a consequence of a decision I had made. That’s why I intervened. »
—And while you were trying to save your brother’s marriage, you destroyed your own.
He closed his eyes.
-Yeah.
It was the first time he admitted it without defending himself.
—Why did you buy the apartment?
—Daniel disappeared for almost two weeks. Vera said he wanted to leave and had nowhere to go.
—His family lives twenty minutes away.
A pause.
-Yeah.
—So you knew it wasn’t necessary.
-Probably.
—But you liked being needed by her.
The question surprised him.
Adrian looked at the table.
After a long while he replied:
-Yeah.
At least it was true.
« It was different with you, » he said.
-I know.
—Not in the way you think.
-So?
Her voice lowered.
—With you, I thought I didn’t have to worry.
I frowned.
—You were always there. You always solved your problems. You never needed me to rescue you.
I laughed.
—So you punished me for being independent.
-No.
He ran a hand over his face.
—But I mistook your strength for a lack of need.
—We all need affection.
-I know.
-Now.
-Now.
We remained silent.
Then he took out an envelope.
—The signed agreement.
I took it.
-Thank you.
—Clara.
-Yeah?
It took several seconds.
—Could there ever be another chance?
I wasn’t expecting that question.
My old self would have cried tears of joy.
I would have interpreted those words as the victory I had waited ten years for.
But that woman was no longer sitting there.
-Don’t know.
I saw hope in her eyes.
I added:
—And I don’t want you to wait.
Hope vanished.
—You need to learn to be different because you want to be different. Not to recover.
He nodded slowly.
I got up.
—Goodbye, Adrian.
—Goodbye, Clara.
The divorce became official six weeks later.
There was no scandal.
There was no war.
The press mentioned « irreconcilable differences » and found a new millionaire marriage to deal with forty-eight hours later.
Life went on.
That was what surprised me the most.
For years I had imagined that losing Adrian would mean losing the center of my existence.
But the mornings kept coming.
The coffee still tasted the same.
My employees kept sending emails.
My friends, whom I had gradually abandoned during my marriage, reappeared without reproach.
I traveled again.
I went running along the sea again.
I went back to sleeping crosswise in bed.
And I discovered something ridiculously small but important:
I liked to leave the windows open when it rained.
Adrian always closed them because he hated humidity.
I had spent four years closing them without asking myself what I preferred.
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