PROLOGUE
Mara woke to the soft weight of Gabriel’s arm draped over her waist.
The morning light spilled lazily through the curtains, warm and honey-colored, the way it always looked on days that meant something. Their bedroom smelled faintly of his cologne — sandalwood with a hint of citrus — the scent she once told him reminded her of “a safe place.” She didn’t know it would become the scent she would later try to unlearn.
“Mmm,” Gabriel murmured, pressing a sleepy kiss to the back of her shoulder. “Five more minutes. The world can wait.”
Mara laughed quietly — a soft, unguarded sound.
“You’re the architect, love. Shouldn’t you be the one who’s punctual?” He tightened his arms around her, refusing to let her sit up. “Architects design time,” he whispered, “which means I can bend it for one morning.”
It was cheesy. Ridiculous. Sweet. Exactly the kind of line she used to tuck into her heart like a pressed flower. If someone had told her that today was the final page of her “perfect marriage,” she would’ve laughed.
Today felt too gentle to be an ending.
Later that morning, Mara prepared breakfast — garlic rice, eggs, and the ‘tapa’ Gabriel loved. Lian even sent a message in their group chat:
LIAN: “Good morning, lovebirds. Breakfast date later?”
GABRIEL: “If Mara doesn’t keep me hostage in the kitchen.” Gabriel’s message, with a laugh emoji.
MARA: “Seriously, Gab?”, She replied with an annoyed emoji.
Mara smiled as she washed dishes. Her two favorite people joking around — it felt like harmony. Or so she thought.
Harmony feels different when you see it from the outside later. Sometimes it isn’t harmony. Sometimes it’s camouflage.
That afternoon, Gabriel left for work with a kiss to her forehead.
“See you tonight, mi vida,” he whispered, using the Spanish pet name he reserved for the days he wanted her to feel special.
She watched him walk away with soft eyes and a full heart, never imagining that every kiss this morning, every tender look, every gentle word…… was also given to someone else.
The crack in her perfect marriage did not arrive loudly. It announced itself through a single vibration of her phone as she folded laundry.
One message.
One video.
No sender name.
At first, Mara didn’t open it. Strangers don’t send good things. Strangers send scams, warnings, threats.
But something about the message —
the absence of words,
the heavy silence of it —
pulled at her curiosity.
Her thumb hovered. Clicked.
A grainy video began to play.
A hotel room. Two silhouettes. Two voices.
A laugh she recognized instantly — because it was once her favorite sound.
Lian.
Followed by a man’s voice, low, intimate, familiar —
Gabriel.
Mara froze.
A heartbeat.
Then another.
Then the moment her world stopped completely.
The silhouettes became clear.
Their faces turned toward the camera at the worst possible angle.
Her husband.
Her best friend.
Their arms tangled. His mouth on her neck. Her hands on his chest.
Then—
Lian and Gabriel’s mouth met, and they kissed torridly like there’s no tomorrow. Lian moans loudly as Gabriel touched her underneath. On the video, it was very clear how Gabriel undresses Lian.. how they f****d on the table top. How Gabriel told Lian “I love you so much Lian, I can’t live without you.”
Mara’s breath punched out of her lungs.
“No.” Her voice cracked like a brittle bone. “No, no… this isn’t real. This is fake. Someone edited this.”
But the way Gabriel smiled in the video — that little half-smirk she fell for — was unmistakably him. Her hands shook so violently she nearly dropped the phone.
She closed the video. Deleted it. Deleted the trash folder. Deleted the memory forcibly from her mind.
“This is not real,” she whispered again, as if saying it enough could erase the truth. But it was too late. The crack had begun.
That night, when Gabriel came home and hugged her, she held on longer than usual. Not because she believed him. But because she wasn’t ready to believe the video. If denial had a scent, it would smell like his shirt at that moment — familiar, comforting, deceptive.
In their dimly lit living room, Gabriel cupped her face. “You okay? You look pale.”
“I’m fine,” she whispered, forcing a smile. “You’re home.”
And he kissed her — softly, lovingly — with the same mouth that kissed her best friend. Mara closed her eyes. But her heart stayed wide open. And that was how she felt it:
The first quiet tear of a life beginning to collapse.
