His silence answered more than his words could have.
Andrés stepped back, giving us space, but remained close enough to intervene.
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The restaurant had resumed its low murmur. Cutlery clinked. Someone coughed near the window.
Ordinary life continued around the moment mine was splitting open.
Then the police arrived.
Two officers entered through the glass doors, their uniforms dark against the restaurant's warm lighting.
The older officer introduced herself as Inspector Elena Salazar.
She asked who had called.
"I did," I answered.
She took one look at my stained dress.
"Would you prefer to speak away from the table?"
I glanced at Javier.
"Yes."
He started toward me.
"Clara, please."
Inspector Salazar raised a hand.
"Sir, remain where you are for now."
I followed her toward a private room near the back.
My legs felt strangely disconnected from my body.
Inside, the room smelled faintly of polished wood and fresh flowers. A single lamp illuminated a small table.
