I went back to bed with my ex-wife during a business trip, and in the early morning, a red stain on the sheet took my breath away. A month later, a call from a hospital in Cancun made me understand that that night had not been a mistake… but the beginning of something much darker.

When I came back out, Elena was already dressed.

The sheet had disappeared.

The room smelled of perfume and cold coffee.

She avoided my gaze.

— Elena…

— Don’t start, Carlos.

— Then explain it to me.

She closed her eyes for a second, like someone trying to hold back a truth that is too heavy.

— This wasn’t supposed to happen.

— What is it?

She looked at me, and I saw something in her eyes that I hadn’t seen before. Fear. Not fear of me. Fear of what was to come.

— I have to go.

She grabbed her bag, gave me a quick kiss on the cheek like you put a bandage on a deep wound, then she left.

I stayed there, alone in that hotel room, with that missing sheet and the feeling that that night was more than just a simple mistake.

In the weeks that followed, I tried to get my life back on track.

The construction site.

The meetings.

The calls.

But Elena never left my thoughts.

I wrote to him twice. No reply.

I eventually convinced myself that she simply regretted what had happened.

Then, a month later, my phone rang.

Number unknown.

Cancun area code.

I almost didn’t answer.

— Mr. Carlos Ortega?

– Yes.

— This is the Cancún General Hospital. You were listed as an emergency contact by Elena Salazar.

My blood ran cold.

— What’s going on?

There was a silence.

Then a lower voice.

— She is in critical condition.

I barely remember the journey to the airport. Only my hands shaking so badly I couldn’t close my suitcase. Only that feeling of falling into the void throughout the entire flight.

When I arrived at the hospital, Elena was hooked up to machines.

Her face was pale.

Too pale.

Her lips were dry.

Her eyes closed.