Taboo

When night falls in this house, I turn off the light in his room, close the door, and stop being only his mother to become something more.

I’d been tossing and turning for two hours. I knew he was sleeping three doors down, and that night, for the first time, I couldn’t pretend.

When I covered her with the blanket and my hand brushed the curve of her hip, I knew it would take me a long time to pull it away.

When I went down to the garage, Valeria was waiting for me in leather pants and a smile that was anything but maternal.

She got on my bike in that tight leather outfit and told me to go slow. But neither of us wanted to go slow that night.

She went into Diego’s room wearing only a black thong under her robe. He was asleep. She sat on the edge of the bed and her hand went there on its own.

I went to that club in a bad mood. Nicolás came looking for his sister and left with me. No one knows yet, and I don’t regret it.

I’d been under the same roof as my father’s wife for four days when she left her bedroom door ajar and told me, without words, to come upstairs.

When Marcos confessed he could help me with both things, I knew that night out dancing was going to end far better than expected.

The half-open door let out a muffled moan and I, frozen in the shadows of the hallway, couldn’t move or stop staring at what I was seeing.

Camila pulled back the sheet without thinking and caught sight of exactly what she shouldn’t have. What came next changed forever the way my sister and I spoke to each other.

I had her underwear in one hand and her phone in the other when I heard the front door open. Camila was there, staring at me from the hallway.

Sebastián had never opened that book in his life. But he had been keeping a rope in the drawer for weeks, waiting for the night we’d be alone.

Rodrigo convinced her to turn around. It was only for a moment, he said. Marcos had been looking at her that way for years, and Sandra hadn’t seen it until now.

There was something her uncle had been asking for months. She had been refusing for months—until she saw that phone on the counter and everything between them changed.

I pushed open the garage door and froze. My mother and my aunt, topless, with their hands wrapped, ready to fight.

I was eighteen, and my body wanted more than it could give. That night I walked into the living room in a nightgown and told my father exactly what I needed.

My friends never understood why I spent three months in a dead village. I never told them the truth: my grandfather was waiting for me with more than dinner.

I closed my eyes beneath the blindfold and my father’s voice built every detail. I wasn’t in my room anymore: I was with Rodrigo, and he was doing exactly what I’d dreamed.