Couple

When I leaned out the car window to see if my sister was still awake, I found him in his window, smoking. And I knew he wasn’t going to look away.

I wanted people to watch her. To devour her with their eyes. What I didn’t expect was that one of the strangers in the back would dare to chase her into the showers.

That folder was never supposed to exist. But I opened it—and among hundreds of photos of me asleep and naked, I found something worse: the email where he shared them.

I turned on the phone, cracked the curtains open just enough, and waited for his shadow to cross the window while I stayed naked in front of the mirror.

When I looked through the keyhole and saw her on her knees in front of him, I knew lust had defeated pride long before that night.

The doorbell rang at seven-thirty, and I knew my marriage had changed forever. She came downstairs braless, looked at them, and smiled.

We saw him among the lilies, watching us from the shadows. Daniela knelt without warning, and I knew that night would change everything we were as a couple.

I’d been lying to Mateo for months, and when he understood that I knew everything, I didn’t fall apart. I put on the blue dress, left the house, and crossed the city to meet Adrián.

I innocently asked whether I’d been her best lover. Her laugh was the first sign I shouldn’t have opened my mouth that night.

I kept their numbers in the drawer and knew I would never call. But I also knew my husband would never touch me the way he had before that night at sea.

I told Mateo to stop, that my sister was sleeping three meters away, but he kept going in silence. I never imagined she’d open that door right then.

I went out to smoke in the dark and saw him: crouched behind the palm tree, eyes fixed on the window where she was undressing, unaware she was being watched by two.

I opened the curtains, turned on the corner lamp, and knew he’d be peering in from the next terrace over. That night, we were going to give him something he’d never dare ask for.

We’d been drinking beer around the pool for hours. When I went into the house looking for ice, the moans were coming from inside—and they weren’t hers alone.

I dressed to blow my boyfriend’s mind. The one who opened the door was his older brother, and his eyes ran over me before he even said hello.

When the first one approached the car, my wife already had her skirt raised and her blouse open. What came next, I watched from an armchair, drink in hand, hardly breathing.

At two in the morning, in that room with red lights, I stopped pretending I was only there to keep my husband company. I was watching. And I was liking it far too much.

She’d been watching me for weeks from her corner table, with that calm that unsettled something inside me. When she sat across from me during my break, she wasn’t alone.

Our dark glasses gave us the perfect permission: he watched the topless girls, I watched the men, and we both knew what would come next.

When he took off his shirt to change clothes, I knew I wouldn’t be able to focus on anything he said about screws and shelves.