Half an hour later, Valeria’s phone started ringing: payment made, payment made, payment made. She imagined Dona Carmen standing in front of the butcher, everyone staring at her, her “important lady” card barely covering a kilo of steak. Then Raúl started. He called once. Then five times. Then twelve times. He inevitably sent desperate messages: “I’m at a restaurant with my boss,” “Why isn’t my card working?”, “Transfer the money, you’re making me look like an idiot.” Valeria didn’t give in. That evening, Raúl came home furious. His keys were on the table. “What happened to my money?” “Nothing,” she replied calmly. “Since I quit my job, I can’t afford the bills anymore. You said you were the man of the house. Now it’s your turn.” Dona Carmen came in right after him, flushed with shame. “You made me look like a beggar at the market!” “No, Doña Carmen. You’re the one who got angry because she was relying on a card that wasn’t yours.” The silence was more deafening than any shout. Over the next few days, the house began to crumble. Unpaid bills began to arrive. They cut off the internet, then the electricity, and finally the water.
Dona Carmen, who always kept the air conditioning on, eventually had to cool off with an old magazine. Raúl took out loans to reconnect the services and began receiving strange calls on every possible number. Valeria continued working from her office. Her company never received notice of termination. On the contrary, her boss granted her a few days off to work from home and offered her legal assistance when she recounted some of the events. On the fourth day, Valeria found what she was looking for on Raúl’s old laptop: online gambling, loan shark loans, hotel photos, and wire transfers to a woman named Brenda. That evening, she laid the documents on the table. “You owe me more than 900,000 pesos,” she said. “You also sold my wedding coins and pawned the bracelet my grandmother left me.” Dona Carmen paled. “Raúl, tell me you didn’t do it.” “Yes, you did, because they abandoned me!” he shouted, pointing at Valeria. “A man needs love too.” Valeria laughed bitterly. “And to feel like a lover, you needed a mistress and stolen money?” That same night, she installed small cameras in the living room and hallway. She knew someone deserved privileges, that their true nature had been revealed. And they were right. By midnight, she too was asleep. Raúl and Dona Carmen entered her room with a flashlight. They opened drawers, searched through bags, and presumably broke into a safe where they believed the property documents were kept. Inside, they found only a piece of paper: “The house is registered in my name.”
