I went back to sleeping with my ex-wife during a work trip Cu at dawn, a red spot on the sheet left me without air. A month later, a call from a hospi

I hadn’t seen her in four years. Since the divorce. Since we both understood that love does not always end at the stroke; sometimes it simply wears out until it becomes unrecognizable.

We got married young. Too young maybe. She dreamed of opening an art gallery in Guadalajara. I was obsessed with growing up within a law firm in Monterrey. At first we believed that the effort was temporary, that one day we would have time for ourselves.

That day never came.

Dinners became silent. The conversations ended reduced to bills, schedules and small reproaches that accumulated like dust. No one fooled anyone. Nobody screamed too much. We just stopped really looking at each other.

And one morning we signed the divorce.

No drama.

No tears.

Like two tired people.

After that, Mariana disappeared from my life. I heard from acquaintances that he had moved to Merida to work restoring old houses. I continued in Monterrey, buried between files, hearings and offices with windows that never opened.