1. I Wish You Were My Mom
Michelle
The silence of the house felt strange. It wasn't the comforting silence of a quiet night, but a thick, heavy one, as if something in the air had changed without me fully understanding it.
It was almost nine at night, and after finishing the housework, I was in the living room with my legs crossed on the sofa and a warm cup of tea in my hands. Outside, the rain gently pattered against the windows, and on the TV, a movie played in the background without me paying any attention. My gaze shifted between the phone screen and the clock on the wall. Ryan and Candace should already be at the hotel, resting after the first day of the skating competition.
At that moment, my phone vibrated. One notification. Then another. And another.
I frowned and swiped my finger across the screen. Suddenly, my breath caught the impact of what I was seeing.
The images were there, in an anonymous message. Three photos, each one more hurtful than the last.
The first: Ryan, with his carefree smile, one arm around Candace and the other around Blake's waist. Blake. His ex. The only woman Ryan always compared me to, and the reason I never felt completely secure, despite being married and being the mother of his daughter.
The second: Candace laughing, hugging Blake as if she had known her all her life, as if she were part of the family, as if I didn't exist.
The third… The third was the cruelest. Ryan and Blake together, without Candace between them. The way he looked at her. The closeness of their bodies.
The phone began to tremble in my hand, and the sound of the rain became a distant murmur. A cold void settled in my stomach, displacing the air from my lungs.
I felt the betrayal seep into my skin, into my bones, into every corner of my body. My husband, my daughter, my life… Everything I believed to be solid crumbled with the ease of a well-kept lie.
And then, I knew.
There was no room for doubt. There were no explanations that could justify this.
Ryan was cheating on me. And he was doing it in broad daylight; with my own daughter's full knowledge and permission. Everything suddenly began to fall into place.
My hands tightened around the phone. I try to take a deep breath, but the air doesn't pass through my throat. A burning sensation churns in my stomach, mixing pain and rage into a lethal combination.
I dialed Ryan's number without thinking. One ring. Two. Three. Nothing.
I sigh, biting my lip hard. I dial again. This time, he cuts the call and fury shakes me to my core.
"Really, Ryan? Are you really going to hide?"
The rain pounds harder now, and I get up abruptly, pacing back and forth in the living room like a caged animal. My mind fires thoughts at full speed. Since when? How could I have been so naive? How many times has he looked me in the eyes with lies in his mouth?
And worst of all: Could Candace be in on it?
My little Candace, who adored her father, even over her own mother. Since she was born, it was always the two of them, leaving me out.
I looked at my phone again to see if the images had disappeared. No. The images are still on my screen, glaring like a cruel reminder of my own blindness.
But I'm not a woman who sits still waiting for answers. If Ryan thought he could play me and get away with it... he was sorely mistaken.
I inhale deeply, close my eyes for a moment, and force myself to think clearly. I can't let anger take over. Not yet. There's something else I need to know.
I take the phone with a trembling hand and zoom in on the image of Ryan and Blake smiling together. I scrutinize the details: the lighting, the colors, the background. A huge sign with the name of the skating event. A bar decorated with warm lights. People in the background...
The reflection in the mirror behind them.
My heart races. I adjusted the image with two fingers and there they were. Ryan. But not just Ryan and Blake.
A second later, I felt the hard blow of truth in my chest.
In the reflection, far from the perfect pose of the photo, Ryan had a hand on Blake's thigh. Not casually. Not innocently. An intimate gesture, a furtive caress.
A wave of nausea rises to my throat. The room seemed to grow smaller, the air denser.
The phone screen lit up again. A new message.
"I thought you should know. It's not the first time."
The number is unrecognized.
The phone slips from my hands and falls to the floor with a dull thud.
I stand frozen, feeling my entire world shatter into a thousand pieces.
But what hurt the most wasn't the betrayal itself. It wasn't the deceit, nor even the humiliation of discovering it through an anonymous message.
What hurt the most… was the certainty that, at some point, I had trusted him blindly. During those ten years by his side, serving them as if I were a maid, I lost myself in the process. Yes, I sidelined myself and prioritized them, trying to be part of their little world of two. But on the other hand, I could have expected it from Ryan, as he was always clear about his feelings. He married out of obligation, even though I loved him. But my daughter… the child I carried in my w'omb and loved from the moment I knew she was coming into this world. That little one hated me from the start. Now I see it clearly.
The phone hitting the floor snaps me out of my daze. I remain motionless, with clenched hands, my breath ragged. The rain pounds the windows furiously, as if the sky shares my rage and cries with me.
"It's not the first time."
The message's words shatter what little trust I had left. It's not the first time. That meant this wasn't a momentary mistake, nor a fleeting attraction. It was something calculated. Recurrent. Planned behind my back. Perhaps, all those times Candace refused to let me accompany them. And that was three years ago.
My stomach churns. My mind tries to convince itself that it was a mistake, but no… the truth was there, in the photo, in the reflection, in the way Ryan avoided answering her.
My legs weaken as I bend to pick up the phone. The screen has a small crack in the corner, but it still works. I look at the photo once more, and this time I can't help but feel the fury coursing through my body like an electric shock, and a strange force makes me stand up.
I refuse to sit here drowning in pain. I'm not going to be the woman who cries in the dark while my husband humiliates me hundreds of kilometers away.
With trembling fingers, I open my contacts and search for Ryan. My eyes scan his name and the photo we still have together on my phone screen. A memory of another life.
This time I didn't call. I wrote to him.
“Why aren't you answering me?”
The message was sent.
One minute passed. Then two.
Nothing.
Every passing second fuels the fire inside me. I'm not going to let him ignore me this time. This is the last time.
I rummage through my purse and pull out my coat. If Ryan won't give answers, I'm going to get them. At that moment, my phone vibrates again.
A message. From Ryan.
I opened it, my heart pounding furiously.
"Not now, Michelle. We're very busy."
My eyes scan those words over and over, incredulous. Not now?
I let out a bitter laugh. I don't feel sadness, but anger. And it's not even directed at them or the woman who opened my eyes. I look at the photo again, and for the first time, there's no pain but determination.
If Ryan thought he could handle this on his terms, he was very wrong.
Because when he returns, I won't be the same woman he left behind.
No more.
*****
I went straight to the airport. There must be a flight. If not now, it will be first thing tomorrow, but I'm not moving from there. I need to get there and see the betrayal, the lie, with my own eyes.
Fortunately, I'm told there's a last-minute flight with a seat available. I don't hesitate to book it. I have money. My parents gave me an account when I got married, as they always had doubts about my marriage. However, over the years, everything seemed to be going well in my new home.
Ryan was never the most affectionate man, but he treated me with respect and some affection. During the first years, and especially after Candace was born, he behaved like a good husband. I came to believe that he had finally recognized my love and that, little by little, it moved him. So I devoted my body and soul to our family.
However, after our daughter was born, she became the center of his life. They loved each other from the first moment he held her in the hospital. Only with him would she stop crying. Although it sounds strange, to me, she seemed restless, as if I couldn't calm her. Sometimes I felt like a bad mother. I was barely nineteen and knew nothing about motherhood. He, at twenty-five, seemed much more prepared for the new role, without neglecting his job as the great CEO of Allen Industries.
All of this goes through my mind as I look out the airplane window, watching my city disappear into the distance. I know what awaits me won't be pleasant, but I need to witness it firsthand. Am I being masochistic? Maybe, but this is the last time. I've already given them more than enough.
*****
Upon arriving in California, I decided to stay at a place close to the event. It's still early, so I head down to the restaurant to eat something. а-'cup of coffee is just what I need; I want to be wide awake and focused.
After finishing my meal, I went for a walk. It's not the first time I've been here; when I was younger, I used to participate in these competitions. I loved the sport until I got pregnant and had to set it aside.
Now, as I approach my thirties, I wonder what might have been if my life had taken a different path. Maybe I would have made it to the Nationals, perhaps even further. But now that's just a "what could have been."
*****
“Welcome to the second day of competitions in the regional figure skating program. Congratulations to all who have advanced; be proud of your achievements. Only the best are here.”
I hear the presenter's voice, and for a moment, I'm transported back years, when I was also part of that group of nervous young women about to take the ice. The excitement, the adrenaline, the uncertainty before each performance. Today, however, I'm on the sidelines, just another spectator. From a distance, I see my daughter preparing to enter the rink. Her father squeezes her shoulder firmly, encouraging her, but she looks for the woman accompanying them. Blake smiles at her sweetly, as if she were her own daughter.
She rarely lets me be the one to calm or console her. But with that woman, everything seems so natural, so fluid, as if she were the missing piece of our family puzzle.
Did she steal my husband and daughter from me? Now I'm not sure. Maybe they gave themselves to her willingly. Perhaps they were never really mine.
Candace enters the rink to warm up, and at that moment, Ryan wraps his arms around Blake and pulls her close. She is slender, elegant, confident. Despite being the same age and having competed together in our time, she has managed to maintain her figure. I, on the other hand, have let myself go. I've gained some weight, and my wardrobe choices are more discreet, more practical. I've always been that way. I never focused on my appearance because I believed love was built on deeper things. I thought that by giving myself completely to my family, by being the perfect wife, my marriage would be safe. Naive of me.
I approach slowly, trying not to be noticed. I'm wearing a cap, dark sunglasses, and my hair is tied back, as if my very presence were sinful. I stop close enough to hear them. They talk about trivial things, lighthearted comments, shared laughter. But it's not the words that really hurt me; it's the gestures. Ryan keeps caressing her waist, kissing her face with tenderness, with spontaneity. With her, those gestures come naturally. With me, however, there were always excuses, evasions, and coldness.
Does it hurt? Absolutely, it hurts! It's not just the betrayal, but the inevitable comparison. No one witnessed the times I was rejected when I asked for the same. But what is begged for never holds the same value as what is freely given.
For a moment, I forced myself to focus on Candace. I must admit she's good, that she might have inherited my talent. She performs her routine with grace, with strength, with a confidence I used to have. When she finishes, a shower of applause greets her. Her face shines with happiness as she runs into the arms of her father—and hers.
"You were perfect, darling!"
The sweetness in Blake's voice is disarming. Candace hugs her, a gesture that is forbidden to me.
"Thank you, Aunt Blake. Thank you for everything you've taught me. I love you so much... as if you were my mother."
Each word is a dagger to my heart.
"Daddy... you should ask for a divorce. If my mother doesn't make you happy, maybe it's time for someone else to do it. I support you."
My world stops. The air becomes dense, heavy. My own daughter is pleading for my replacement.
"I don't think your mother will easily agree to stop being my wife," Ryan responds with cruel calmness.
Blake then sees me. Though distance separates us, I can see it in her gaze. She recognizes me. She smiles, as if challenging me, and kisses Ryan in front of Candace, without any shame.
"Come on, darling. She is your mother, after all."
"Yes, she is... but I wish you were my mother."
My husband places a kiss on his daughter's forehead and another on his lover's crown. He embraces them both with the assurance of a man who has found his place. They look happy. They look complete.
And who am I to stand in the way of their complete happiness?
I smile. I stood up and take one last look at them. There is nothing left for me in this situation. If my disappearance is what they need to be happy, I can give them that gift.
I turn around and leave.
Without any resentment. Without any fighting. Without looking back.
2. My Brother's Friend
Michelle
"Michelle?"
As I walk out of the competition venue, tears blur my vision. The only thing I can clearly perceive is the pain in my heart. I looked up and saw a familiar face.
"Abdiel? Is that you?"
The man rushes towards me, lifts me into the air, and spins me around. It was unexpected, so suddenly, I didn't know how to react.
"Oh, I'm dizzy!" I let out a spontaneous laugh that, at least for a moment, distracts me from my problems.
"It's been so long since I've seen you! What are you doing here? Are you here to cheer someone on?"
As he puts me down, his words bring me back to reality.
"No, not really. There's someone I know competing, but they weren't expecting me."
I see from his expression that he doesn't understand what I mean, but I have no intention of explaining it.
"Well, but are you leaving already? Today's competition isn't over yet."
"Yes, I'm leaving. For me, it's already over."
The sad tone in my voice doesn't go unnoticed, and he decides not to press with questions.
"That's a shame, but give me your contact info. Are you still living in Oregon?"
I nod.
"Maybe we can grab lunch or dinner sometime. My brother also lives there, and I'm staying with him. His daughter is competing. Do you remember my brother, Dylan?"
The name sounds familiar, but I can't place it in my mind.
"You always had a bad memory of faces and names," he says with an amused smile. "I remember you used to ask me when you couldn't remember someone."
I laughed quietly. That has always been my big problem. While my memory is excellent in other areas, I struggle to remember faces and names. I've always attributed it to my myopia, but I've never been sure.
"Yes, you're right," I admit.
"Alright, let's stay in touch."
He hands me his phone, so I can jot down my number and sends me a message on WhatsApp.
"We're all set up. Now I have to go back. Soon it's my niece's turn to compete."
I smiled at him, and he gave me a hug before saying goodbye.
"It was great to see you. You were the best skating partner I could have had."
What he says is true. When we competed together, we were considered the perfect pair, but various circumstances led us to part ways.
I watched him hurry away and let out a sigh. It's amazing how the past comes back when you least expect it. Could it be some kind of sign?
*****
When I reach the exit door, I take one of the parked taxis and return to the hotel. I need to schedule my return trip, but I don't know what I'll do when I get home. Well... to what used to be my home.
Yes, I know I'm cowardly for not fighting for what, according to the law, belongs to me. But what's the point? The truth is, the other woman hasn't stolen anything from me. They immersed themselves completely in their happiness, without stopping to think for a moment about the pain they might cause me.
When I arrive at the hotel, I check the airline flights. Fortunately, I found one that leaves in three hours, so I have time. I didn't bring many things, so I quickly gathered my belongings and checked out of the room. I decided to wait at the airport.
I returned the keys to the reception and took another taxi. The ride is short, and I haven't had the opportunity to think about my next steps.
I have a degree in Business Administration, but I only worked for a while at Ryan's company, and it was more due to my parents' insistence than my husband's will. My father, seeing that I would marry so young, imposed the condition that I study and work. During that time, they also helped me with Candace's care.
Maybe that's why Candace hates me. I sigh. I never imagined that my own daughter would be happy that her father had someone else. I've known cases of children who fiercely defend their mothers, but mine simply wants me out of her life. And I'm going to grant her that. I want her to be happy, and if my absence is what will make her feel that way, then I'll do it out of love.
Despite my separation from Ryan, Candace will always be my daughter. I just hope that, someday, she understands that everything I did was for the well-being of both her and Ryan.
*****
"Excuse me... I think that's my seat." A deep voice draws me out of my thoughts.
When I booked the flight, I made sure to choose a seat without companions. There were many available seats, but now, in front of me, someone was claiming their seat. Most likely, they bought their ticket at the last minute, as we were about to take off. I look up and find a man the age of my husband looking at me anxiously.
"Mmmm... I'm sorry." I'm about to get up, even though I was very comfortable in my window seat. However, as I stand up, the plane makes a sudden movement, and I stumble forward, barely catching myself in his arms.
"I'm sorry." I straighten up and step into the aisle to let him pass, but he doesn't say anything. It's strange.
He settles into his seat, and although it sounds absurd, his face also seems familiar to me. I take the aisle seat, leaving the middle one free to avoid sitting next to anyone. I should have booked the window. I sigh and lean back, nursing my wounds. Although it could just be my imagination, I feel someone's gaze on me. I open my eyes, but the man seems to be asleep, and on the other side of the aisle, a family chats animatedly. I'm exaggerating, I tell myself. Maybe I'm becoming paranoid.
It's time to analyze what I'll do when I arrive. I don't have a job, but I can start looking. I don't have a house, but I can rent something small, and at least I have a savings account. The first thing I need to do is find a place to live and move my things. Ryan and Candace will take two more days to return, so I have enough time.
I also need to contact the lawyer to start the divorce proceedings. Bff... too many things to do. Without realizing it, the insomnia from the previous night takes effect, and I fall asleep.
As the plane took off, I thought about how strange it would be to start from scratch. A couple of tears slid down my cheeks, but I quickly wiped them away.
"No, Michelle. Stop crying. Save your tears for moments that are truly worthwhile. Crying over people who never loved you makes no sense. They don't deserve it."
*****
Dylan
I receive an emergency call and had to return to Oregon immediately. As soon as Susy's performance ends, I approach her to say goodbye. Her sad face breaks my soul.
"Don't worry, Daddy. I'll stay with Uncle Abdiel," she assures me bravely.
My brother, who was by her side, patted my arm with a slight smile. I knew I could count on him; he loved my daughter almost as much as I did.
"I'll try to make it back before the final tomorrow," I promised her. "I promise you'll win."
Susy hugs me tightly, and I give her a kiss on the cheek.
"Take care of her," I told Abdiel before leaving in a hurry.
My assistant had already booked a flight. The plane took off in thirty minutes, which barely gave me time to gather my papers and board. I ran through the airport, passing through security with the staff's help, and arrived just in time.
As I board the plane, I notice the crew giving me disapproving looks. They were just waiting for me. I sighed and walked to my seat, feeling guilty of the delay.
But when I get to my seat, I'm surprised to find a woman sitting there.
As I approach, she quickly apologizes and moves to let me pass. But just at that moment, the plane shakes as it starts taxiing, and she falls into my arms.
It was at that moment that I recognized her, and my heart skipped a beat.
She looks more mature, a bit different, but still just as beautiful. I never imagined I'd see her again.
Awkwardly, she straightens up and sits in the aisle seat. I can see the sadness in her eyes. Something was troubling her, but I couldn't ask. After all, in the past, she was just my brother's friend.
I never dared to speak to her alone. I was several years older than her and, besides, she was always in love with that idiot, Ryan Allen. She married him, and I stopped thinking about what could have been.
Then I met Cecilia. We were happy in our brief marriage, but deep down, I always wondered what would have happened if I had had the courage to ask her out.
I steal a sideways glance at her. She didn't seem to recognize me.
Maybe I was someone invisible to her in the past. Still, her sadness affected me more than it should. I took a handkerchief from my pocket and offered it to her.
"This might be useful."
She turns her face towards me and takes it with a slight smile.
"Thank you... Excuse me... Do we know each other?"
I could have lied. Said no. But my lips spoke before I could think of a response.
"I'm Dylan Morrison... Abdiel's brother."
Her face lights up with surprise.
"What a coincidence! I just saw Abdiel a few hours ago. But... wasn't your daughter going to compete?"
I didn't know she had met my brother. How curious fate is.
"Yes, I saw her participate, but I had to attend to an emergency at the company."
She nods but doesn't ask more.
"My daughter also participated," she says suddenly.
I remain silent. At the competition, I thought I had seen Ryan in the distance, but I wasn't sure. There was a woman with him, and they seemed quite close.
"You didn't stay?" I asked cautiously.
She lowers her gaze. Her sadness is evident, and a couple of tears well up in her eyes.
"No... they didn't need me. They'd be better off without me.
Her trembling voice leaves me without words.
She takes a deep breath and raises her gaze. Then, in a faint voice, she says something I never expected to hear.
"I'm going to get a divorce. I need to get home to sort out a lot of things. I also need a job and a place to live."
The surprise paralyzes me for a moment. Who in their right mind would let a woman like her go?
"Maybe I can help you," I say, without thinking twice.
I take a card out of my wallet and hand it to her.
"I can offer you a job. When you're ready, you can reach out to me."
She takes the card and holds it between her fingers. Then, she looked up at me with a hint of hope in her eyes.
"It seems fate brought you to me... Thank you very much, Dylan."
I nod with a slight smile.
Yes... it seems that fate has started a new game. And this time, maybe I can win.
3. Writing a New Story
Michelle
The flight went smoothly, and in a few hours, the plane landed. As soon as I set foot on the ground, it was time to start organizing my departure. I looked up and said goodbye to Dylan.
"It was great bumping into you. I'll call you." I say, addressing him informally and showing him the card in my hand. He just gives me a smile and nods. I took my suitcase from the overhead compartment and walked to the exit. I feel Dylan's presence behind me, and I can't quite understand why it unsettles me and makes me nervous. As I leave the boarding area and head down the hall towards the airport exit, a hand gently stops me by the arm before I reach the street.
"Michez… My driver came to pick me up. Let me give you a lift."
I froze for a second. Did he really just call me by that silly nickname Abdiel used to use? That nickname, for some reason, always irritated and made me laugh at the same time.
I hesitated for a moment. I don't want to trouble you, and after all, my interaction with Dylan had been limited during my friendship with his brother.
"Mmm… I don't want to trouble you."
For the first time, a genuine smile lights up his face as he shakes his head.
"You're not bothering me at all. I want to do it."
I lowered my gaze, realizing that it made no sense to keep refusing. He had already made the decision. A stern-looking man approaches and silently takes our suitcases. I just have to follow them. Dylan opens the car's back door with a polite gesture and invites me to get in.
Once inside, the vehicle starts moving, and I try to relax. Considering that Dylan is Abdiel's brother, my friend, there should be no reason to feel uncomfortable.
The silence stretches between us until, unable to contain my curiosity, I decide to break it.
"You called me Michez."
Dylan lets out a light, carefree laugh.
"Yes, sorry. But I remembered how my brother used to call you and found it funny."
It was, actually. Abdiel always had the habit of shortening names. At first, he tried to call me "Michi," but I flatly refused. It sounded too much like a cat. So, in his infinite stubbornness, he decided to adapt it to "Michez," and I ended up sticking with that nickname.
"Hahaha. Yes, it was funny. Especially with the tone he used, you know…"
Dylan sighs and nods. He knows exactly what I'm talking about. Abdiel has always been peculiar, with tastes that some might find unconventional. Despite being physically attractive and sparking the interest of many women, his true aim was to attract male attention.
"I know. Well, if you saw him, you must have noticed that his accent got worse over the years."
We looked at each other for a second and burst into laughter. Abdiel was a lost cause, but it was impossible not to love him.
"So, is he seeing anyone?" I ask, trying to continue the conversation and find out what has happened during this time.
Dylan shakes his head slightly.
"No, he doesn't. He hasn't had any luck in love. It seems the Morrisons weren't exactly born under a lucky star."
I remain silent. Apparently, neither was I.
*****
During the ride, I gave him my address, and before long, we pulled pulling into my neighborhood.
I can't complain about our financial situation. Both Ryan and I come from good families, but he has taken his company to another level, to the point of being listed on the stock exchange. Despite everything, I always liked to take care of them personally, to be present, to be part of their lives. I fooled myself into thinking that if Ryan and my daughter noticed how much I cared for them, if they saw my absolute dedication, they would understand that I did everything out of love. But I see that it was all for nothing.
Over time, I went from being invisible to just another part of the household staff. No one told me openly, but I felt it in every gesture, in every distracted look, in every conversation that ended without my voice mattering.
I give a light, ironic laugh. I set these standards for myself without considering whether, in my eagerness to give everything, I was making them happy. I believed that unconditional love was enough, but now I understand that perhaps it only suffocated them.
"We're here."
Dylan's rough voice pulls me out of my thoughts. I blinked a couple of times and turned to him. I tried to smile, but I'm not sure if it came out as a crooked grimace.
"Thank you for bringing me. It wasn't necessary. Besides, you said you had something urgent to do."
He shakes his head slowly, with that calmness that seems so much his own.
"Sometimes there are more important things. This time, I couldn't let you come by yourself."
His words caught me off guard. His expression is serene, but there's something in his gaze that seems to pierce me with a certainty that disarms me.
"I imagine that now that there's no one with you, you'll begin your emotional mourning," he continues, and it's better that you're at home, safe. I wouldn't have felt at ease. But you know what? You're going to be okay.
He says it with such conviction that, for a moment, I want to believe him. I want to cling to that certainty like a lifeline in the middle of a shipwreck.
I don't know why, but I dare to ask him something that I know has no answer.
"Are you sure?"
Dylan looks at me intently. His gaze doesn't waver. And, unexpectedly, he takes my hand in his and squeezes it tightly, conveying a comforting warmth.
"Yes, I'm sure. Good people always get their reward. And even though everything seems dark and hopeless now, remember that the sun always rises the next day.
His voice is an anchor in my stormy sea. I don't know if he's right. I don't know if things will get better. But, at this moment, I decided to cling to his words.
Because maybe, just maybe... there's still a light waiting for me at the end of the road.
*****
I take out my keys and open the door. I'm met with a sepulchral silence.
I had never realized how lonely the house felt. So cold, so empty. As if, suddenly, all the warmth and life that once inhabited it had vanished without a trace.
I walk towards my bedroom, but before I can climb the stairs, Ruth, my housekeeper, stops me.
"Ma'am, you're back."
Her tone is kind, but I can see surprise in her eyes. I had only told her I was going on a trip, without specifying when I would return. I try to smile at her, but I'm not sure if I succeed, as she looks at me with concern.
"Yes, Ruth, I'm back. Could you get me some boxes? I'm going to clear out my closet."
She nods without question. My request doesn't seem strange to her; I've often set aside things we no longer used to donate to charity.
"Yes, I'll bring them to your room in a little while. Would you like me to prepare something to eat?
I shake my head, trying to seem normal.
"No, I ate something on the way. I'm going to lie down for a while."
Ruth leaves, and for a moment, I'm left alone, looking around my house as if I'm seeing it for the first time. It's beautiful, immaculate, filled with details I once chose with care. Now I see it clearly: almost everything here was chosen by me. Ryan rarely showed any interest in these things. He always said his only role was to pay the bills.
I sigh deeply.
I'm sure that over time, all these seemingly insignificant details will start to take on new meaning in my memories.
Finally, I decided to head upstairs. I don't have much time and a lot to do. I quickened my pace and walked into the room where I had slept for so many years.
I drop the suitcase on the floor and head straight to the closet. It's not just a space filled with clothes, shoes, and bags—it's a place full of memories.
I started taking everything out. Clothes that no longer fit me but that I kept in the hope of losing a couple of sizes; garments that have gone out of style and that I will never wear again. I reach the back and there it is: my wedding dress, carefully stored in its cover. Next to it, some boxes I brought with me when I was still single.
And then I see them.
My last pair of skates.
I stood still for a moment. It's strange how an object can have the power to bring with it a flood of emotions. I crouched down and take out the box.
I'm about to toss it with the things I'm going to discard, but something inside me urges me to open it.
There they are.
My beautiful sky-blue skates.
They were a present from my dad. When the injury took me away from skating, he himself cleaned them carefully and stored them in this box, as if he could protect a part of my past that way.
I take them in my hands and, suddenly, something falls gently to the floor.
A note.
I stared at the paper for a few seconds, my heart pounding in my chest, before bending down to pick it up.
I don't remember leaving anything there.
With trembling hands, I unfolded the sheet and read.
“To my dear skating champion:
Falls hurt, injuries frustrate, and pauses seem endless, but remember: a skater is not defined only by their triumphs, but by their ability to get up again and again.
Your determination, discipline, and passion for skating remain intact. This is not the end, it's just a curve in the road, an opportunity to strengthen yourself, to return with more strength and more hunger for success.
Trust the process. Recovery will take time, but when you step onto that rink again, you'll do it with a new story to tell: that of someone who didn't give up.
Keep shining. Your moment will return, and it will be even greater.
From your number one fan,
Dad”
This note ends up breaking me.
I hold it between my trembling fingers, reading the words over and over as they pierce me like a knife. Somewhere along the way, I lost myself without even realizing it. I lost my direction, my dreams, my essence... and the most painful thing is that I didn't notice there were people following my steps, waiting for me to keep going.
Apparently, I gave up a long time ago. And I didn't know it until now.
I angrily wipe away the tears streaming down my cheeks, as if with that gesture I could erase the weight of the years I've let pass without fighting.
At that moment, a knock on the door snaps me out of my reverie. Ruth enters carrying two large boxes.
"Are you getting rid of all this?" she asked cautiously.
I nod silently.
She doesn't ask any more questions and, with her usual efficiency, begins to help me pack everything. Clothes, shoes, memories. Ten years of my life compressed into just a couple of boxes.
When she picks up the box with the skates, holding it with both hands, I stop her instinctively.
"Not those." My voice sounds firmer than I expected. "They will be my keepsake and my reminder.
Ruth frowns, not understanding, but doesn't press the issue. She simply shrugs and continues with the task. With her help, we finished faster than I imagined.
"Please tell Simón to come for the boxes.
She nods and goes to find the butler.
I'm left alone in the room. I look at the empty spaces in the closet, the absence of everything that, just minutes ago, felt like part of my life. And then, the harsh truth hit me:
I didn't think that a decade of my existence could fit into just two boxes.
It seems that, indeed, I've only been a ghost in this family. A silent specter that gave, served, loved... without being seen.
But not anymore.
Following my father's advice, now that I've fallen, it's time to rise. It's time to stop being an echo of the past and begin writing a new chapter.
And this time, it will be mine and mine alone.
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