Ruuth waited in the living room like a caged cat, pacing and nervously chewing her thumbnail. She had changed clothes, changing out of yesterday’s wedding dress and into worn jeans and a mustard-colored T-shirt she’d found in Damian’s closet.
Her designer heels had been replaced by sneakers, as if she were subconsciously preparing for a more austere life. When she heard the key in the lock, she ran to the door.
So, what happened? Is he going to sue you? Damian shuffled in, his shoulders hunched, his expression a mixture of relief and defeat. He carried a copy of the signed agreement, the pages slightly creased from the pressure of his fingers.
“He won’t sue me.” Ruth breathed a sigh of relief, clutching her chest. Thank God. So what? Has he forgiven you? Has he decided to move on for the sake of the baby?
Damian collapsed onto the couch and left the documents on the coffee table, among the glasses of cava from the day before, still there, a testament to his failed honeymoon.
Not exactly. What does “not exactly” mean? Ru approached and began reading the document. Compensatory pay reduction: €1,500 per month. Her voice rose with every word. Duration of the agreement: 40 months.
She remained silent, doing the math in her head. When she was finished, she looked at him with a look of pure horror. €100. €100 per month for more than three years. Better the straight and narrow than prison.
Better than prison! she shouted, throwing the papers in the air. How will we live on €100? How will we pay for this apartment? How will we maintain our standard of living?
We’ll have to adapt. Adapt. Ruth burst into hysterical laughter. Damian, the rent for this apartment is €1,800. Just the rent. Not counting electricity, water, gas, food, transportation. Damian sank further into the couch.
During the drive home, he’d tried not to think about numbers, but now the mathematical reality loomed before him like a precipice. We’ll have to move to something smaller, something cheaper.
Cheaper. Ruth started walking again. You mean one of those 50-square-meter apartments on the outskirts? With a shared wall with the neighbors? No garage or terrace?
Ruth, please, don’t tell me to calm down. She turned to him, her eyes blazing. Do you know what this means? It means I’ll have to go back to work. It means I’ll have to find a job as a secretary or a sales assistant, because my consulting experience is worthless after a year of unemployment.
It means that, instead of being the wife of a successful businessman, I’ll be the wife of an employee who’s losing money. Damian stood up, trying to move closer to her, but Ru backed away as if it were contagious.
But we’re still together. Love can surpass love. Ru interrupted him with a bitter laugh. What love are you talking about, Damian? The love you felt when you gave me €3,000 bracelets? The love you felt when you took me to Michelin-starred restaurants? Because that love cost €80,000, and apparently that love was stolen.
The words hit them like hammer blows. Damian realized, perhaps for the first time, that Ru had never loved him. She had loved the version of him she thought had money, status, power—a version that turned out to be just a fantasy.
So, what do you propose? What should we do? Ruth went into the bedroom without answering. Damian followed her and found her throwing open the closet, pulling out clothes, and throwing them on the pearl-colored bed.
What are you doing? What I should have done months ago. Ru packed several clothes in a suitcase. Get out of this before it’s too late. Are you leaving? I’m leaving. Ru looked up as she folded a blouse.
It was a mistake from the start. I thought I’d hit the jackpot with you, but apparently I married a ruthless liar. Damian felt like he’d been punched in the stomach.
But we just got married. Yesterday you said you loved me. Yesterday I thought you were someone else. Ru slammed the suitcase. The person I fell in love with doesn’t exist.
It was just a character you played so well for eight months. And where are you going? Ru slung her bag over her shoulder and grabbed the suitcase. “I’m going to stay with my sister until I can get my life back on track, until I find a job and forget about this nightmare.”
Ruth, please, we can get through this. We can find a solution. He stopped at the bedroom door. “Do you know the difference between you and Cristina Damian?”
She built something real. You’ve always known how to live only in lies. He paused, and I was foolish enough to believe those lies. This is the final decision. Ru looked at him one last time, and in her eyes there was something akin to contempt, as final as our divorce yesterday.
Except this time, I’m the one leaving with dignity. The door closed with a soft but final click. Damian was left alone in the apartment, surrounded by the remnants of a life that had turned out to be a mirage.
The candles had burned down, the glasses were empty, the rose petals wilted on the floor. His phone vibrated. A message from Elena. Damian, we’ll start with the new management system on Monday.
Don’t be late. Your future depends on your punctuality. He walked over to the window and looked out at the city spread out below him. From up there, Barcelona still looked beautiful and full of possibilities, but he was no longer part of those possibilities.
Now he was just a 36-year-old man, divorced, abandoned, and indebted to the only person who had been honest with him from the start. Somewhere in that same city, Cristina was preparing her son’s room with the calm confidence of someone who had bet on the truth and won completely.
Three weeks later, in the Pedralves apartment, loneliness tasted like cold coffee and the smell of yesterday’s pizza. Damian woke up on the couch for the fifteenth consecutive morning with a stiff neck and the certainty that another day of humiliation awaited him.
