Bet

When I looked up and saw her sweeping the living room, I knew my cousin was the only one who could save me. I never imagined how far we’d go that afternoon.

Thirty-two degrees, the child asleep, and only one deck between them. When she asked what he wanted to bet, he answered with the one thing he’d spent the whole week not daring to say.

One lower card was all it took for that pink cage to stop being a joke and become my new reality for two full months.

I won the hand and, for the first time, had both of them at my mercy. My husband and our guest, waiting for my order. And I already knew what I was going to ask them to do.

At four in the morning, while he was making love to me, my husband whispered my coworker’s name. And I, in the dark, smiled.

When she leaned over my desk to show me the file, her skirt rode up two inches. I couldn’t hide a thing anymore. She didn’t want me to.

When the referee blew the final whistle, I knew there was no turning back: I’d have to pay up on the bet in front of my friend, right at the bar.

Marina had spent months being invisible to her husband. Her nephew looked at her the only way she needed to be looked at. That night, the cards made a decision.

A bet, alcohol, and years of friendship. That night, Adrián and Marcos discovered that some limits aren’t where you think they are.