I heard Mercedes laughing.
I remembered the way the restaurant had gone silent.
At four in the morning, I found Lucía sitting at her kitchen table with two mugs of tea.
She looked up.
"Couldn't sleep?"
I shook my head.
She pushed a mug toward me.
We sat together while the refrigerator hummed and the city slowly brightened beyond the windows.
Finally, I asked the question I'd been avoiding.
"How did I let it get this bad?"
Lucía studied her hands.
"Do you remember when you first introduced Javier to us?"
I nodded.
"He brought flowers for Mamá," she continued. "He asked about everyone's work. He made you laugh so hard you spilled coffee."
A painful smile touched my mouth.
"He was wonderful."
"He knew how to be wonderful," she said. "That doesn't mean you imagined the good parts."
I looked down.
"He changed."
"Maybe. Or maybe he gradually showed you more of himself."
