The sharp click of my heels echoed softly against the polished marble floors, the sound muted but rhythmic as I moved purposefully through the wide, well-lit corridors of Luis’s school. The air smelled faintly of disinfectant and chalk, a clean, institutional scent that transported me back to simpler times, long before the complexities of the life I now led.
My dress, a deep midnight blue with intricate lace detailing that shimmered faintly under the overhead lights, clung to my figure, accentuating every curve. It wasn’t just a dress—it was a symbol, a reminder of the role I had taken on.
Rafael’s wife. Luis’s mother. A woman who commanded respect.
The title felt foreign, like a crown that didn’t quite fit. Beneath the facade of confidence and composure, I was still a stranger in this
