Forbidden

I was sitting in the round sofa in the back, my legs crossed and my glass half empty, when I saw the curly-haired guy set down his drink and walk straight toward me.

When I went barefoot to the kitchen at three in the morning, my son was already there shirtless, looking at me like a man, not a boy, and I knew I’d give in that night.

No one expected me to come back so soon. What I saw in that garage—my mother, shirtless, with her fists wrapped—could never be unseen.

I took up a spot on their corner without really knowing what I was looking for. The first time a stranger asked my price, my voice shook more than I expected.

When I opened the door to 412 thinking it would be empty, I found him naked in the armchair, looking at me like he already knew who was coming in.

Catalina came into the room at three in the morning, took off her dress without looking at me, and said she didn’t want to sleep alone in the cold.

I got out of the car convinced the house was empty. Then I heard moans upstairs and turned on the bedroom camera.

I met him online when I was sixteen. Two years later, one August morning, he texted me that he was traveling to the capital and that it was my only chance to see him again.

When she asked me to find her men during the summer, I knew the trip to the coast would change us forever.

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.

Marcos never said anything without purpose. But that afternoon in the woods, every word he spoke was a line inviting me to cross with no way back.

I went into the bathroom with Camila’s underwear still warm in my hands. I never imagined that minutes later her mother would be kneeling in front of me.

When the door opened, I was still pressing his briefs against my face. He looked at me with a smile that wasn’t angry, but something much worse.

I’d been up all night studying with coffee, until a squeak in the wall beside me made me lower my pillow and realize who was making that noise.

I went downstairs barefoot for a drink of water and found her sprawled on the sofa, her legs braced against the backrest. She never turned her head. I didn’t move.

When she called sobbing, I knew she'd end up at my place that night. I just didn't know how far we'd both be willing to go.

I sat down in front of him, took his hands, and started talking. I knew every word tied me more tightly to him, even if it hurt like a badly placed caress.

Four days remained until my father returned. Four nights to decide how to tell him his wife was sleeping in my arms in his own bed.

Andrés had spent years asking for more than she could give. That night, Lucía set the knife on the counter, looked at her son, and proposed something none of them would forget.

The first time I found the wrapper in the trash, I thought I was mistaken. By the fourth time, I knew exactly what was happening in that room.