MIRROR OF LIES
725 Words
Chapter Four: Mirror of Lies
The glow of Bogotá’s skyline shimmered against the hotel room’s tall windows, but Mariana Abagram wasn’t admiring the view tonight.
She stood in silence, phone in hand, watching the screen light up with another message that read:
“Sorry, in meetings again. I’ll call when I can. – L”
It was the third time this week.
And the weekend had come and gone without a single sign of Leonardo.
No calls.
No texts.
No knock on her door.
Not even the usual late-night voice note whispering “I miss you.”
---
Their dynamic had changed. At first, it was fire — quick coffee meetings that turned into hours of laughter. Business lunches that became secret dinners. And his eyes… his eyes never left hers.
But now?
It felt like smoke. Thin. Fleeting. Dissipating before she could hold it.
Mariana poured herself a glass of red wine, sat on the edge of her bed, and opened the group chat with her two closest friends: Camila and Lucía — women who knew the world Mariana was dipping into far too well.
Camila:
“M, powerful men don’t come empty-handed. But they never come without shadows. Be careful.”
Lucía:
“Has he introduced you to his world yet? Or are you still living in his schedule?”
Mariana sighed.
Still living in his schedule.
Still waiting for the pieces of his world to fit into hers.
Still trying to ignore the sinking feeling.
---
They hadn’t spent a weekend together in nearly a month. Every time she tried to plan something:
“Work trip.”
“Investor dinner.”
“Family emergency.”
Always something.
And when she finally confronted him over lunch last Wednesday, he had reached across the table, cupped her hand in his, and said:
> “I know I’m asking for your patience. But everything’s about to change. I’m divorcing soon, Mariana. I promise.”
Divorcing?
The word hit her like cold rain.
She hadn’t even known he was married.
He had never worn a ring.
Never mentioned a wife.
Never once told her he was someone else’s husband.
And now, just like that, he was divorcing?
Why?
How?
Since when?
---
She hadn’t reacted immediately. Her face had remained calm, as trained. But inside, something in her shifted.
What else had he hidden?
---
Meanwhile, across town, in a sprawling estate of cream marble and glass, Isabela Leonardo sat in her private study, eyes fixed on a second phone screen. Her personal assistant quietly handed her a cup of green tea as she reviewed the GPS logs.
She had known something was off. Leonardo had grown colder. Less engaged. His kisses felt like apologies, not affection.
Weeks ago, she had planted a discreet tracker app on his phone — something her lawyer cousin had helped her with.
And now she had proof.
Leonardo had been frequenting a hotel on the northern edge of Bogotá.
The same hotel Mariana Abagram, the visiting executive, was booked into.
It hadn’t taken her long to connect the dots.
Messages. Meeting logs. Coordinates.
All roads led to Mariana.
Her.
---
Isabela didn’t cry.
She didn’t confront.
She simply observed — and started planning.
While Leonardo whispered promises to Mariana and ignored his wife’s growing silence, Isabela smiled more at home. Laughed more at dinners. Pretended nothing was wrong.
But behind the calm elegance, a fire was simmering — not of heartbreak, but of calculation.
She would not go down quietly.
---
Back in the hotel, Mariana stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her long dark hair fell over her silk robe, her skin flushed from the heat of the water.
She looked like a woman in love.
But her eyes?
Her eyes looked like a woman slowly realizing she’d been fooled.
---
At 3:17 a.m., her phone buzzed. A voice note.
Leonardo:
“I hate that we haven’t had time together. This will all make sense soon. Just give me a little longer, okay? I love you.”
She didn’t reply.
Instead, she stared out the window, watching the lights of the city flicker like the start of a fire.
And in her reflection on the glass, she no longer saw the confident, certain Mariana.
She saw a woman standing in front of a mirror...
...surrounded by lies.
- Writer
