Later, in the guest room of my sister’s apartment in Embajadores, I finally checked my phone. Fourteen missed calls from Javier, six unheard voice messages, and texts I could only partly read from the notifications: “Lucía, come back, you’re exaggerating…” “We can talk…”
I ignored all of it. I got into bed without removing my makeup, still wearing my clothes. Exhaustion and anger pressed against my head. I was about to turn on airplane mode when a new notification appeared on the screen.
“Message from Diego.”I opened the chat. There was only one sentence. A single line that made me hold my breath:
