Your marriage survives, but not as it was. There are nights you cannot look at him. There are mornings you wake from dreams of Diego falling and Arturo standing silent. There are therapy sessions where you scream until your throat hurts.
But Arturo never asks you to hurry forgiveness.
That is why, slowly, you stay.
Lucía pleads not guilty.
In court, she looks smaller than you remember. Not innocent. Never innocent. Just reduced. Her lawyer tries to portray you and Arturo as confused, injured, resentful parents manipulated by grief and old age.
Then the recording plays.
Her voice fills the courtroom.
Diego didn’t like edges either.
You watch the jury.
You watch them hear your daughter laugh about your dead son.
Then the recording continues.
He saw Diego fall. And he still chose me.
Arturo breaks down beside you.
You hold his hand.
Not because he deserves comfort.
Because you do.
Esteban testifies.
He admits Lucía planned to frighten you into signing revised estate documents. He claims he did not know she intended to push you. He admits to helping forge invoices and move workshop money. He admits Lucía told him Diego had “gotten in the way” years earlier, but he thought it was a metaphor.
The prosecutor asks, “After she pushed her parents off the cliff, did you still believe it was a metaphor?”
Esteban lowers his head.
“No.”
