My name is Leonardo Villar. At twenty-five, I finished my degree in Administration and, soon after, took a position at Villar & Co., one of the most respected companies in the sector, led by my uncle Sergio Villar—my father's brother and a reference in the business world.

Two years ago, I realized one of the greatest dreams of my life: I married Samantha. She has always been the woman who made my heart beat faster, stronger... more alive. Our first year of marriage was like a beautiful and serene film, one of those you don't want to end. We laughed at any silliness, understood each other with a look, and love seemed to grow every day.

But, like an unexpected twist, everything began to fall apart when Samantha accepted a job alongside Silvia, an old friend, at a prestigious law firm. Since then, the woman I loved—and who always looked at me with sweetness—has become a stranger in our house. Cold. Distant. Silent.

Our conversations, once filled with plans and tenderness, have turned into long silences or empty discussions. Sometimes, I look at her and feel like I'm trying to reach someone who has already left, even though she's by my side.

I have been making every effort to save what's left of our marriage. I love Samantha more than I can express. Just imagining losing her, an abyss opens inside me. And yet, no matter how much I fight, it seems the distance between us grows every day.

My name is Samantha. I am twenty-four years old and work in a law firm.

If I could go back in time, perhaps I wouldn't have made the biggest mistake of my life: marrying Leonardo Villar.

Don't get me wrong—Leonardo is not a bad man. On the contrary. He is hardworking, honest, generous. Maybe even too good… But our marriage was never a choice of the heart. It was a decision made under the shadow of other people's expectations. My parents always considered him the perfect son-in-law, and, wanting to please them, I ended up saying "yes" to a man who always loved me madly… and whom I never managed to love in the same way.

Things really started to change when I started working at the firm. Rodrigo, the owner, came into my life like a gentle breeze—and, little by little, turned into a storm. Attentive. Sensitive. Intense. With him, I discovered feelings I never imagined feeling. Emotions I never experienced alongside Leonardo. And yes… we fell in love.

Rodrigo wants me to get divorced. For us to assume everything, without hiding. But I haven't had the courage yet. Not because of Leonardo—but because of my parents. I know this breakup will shake our family relationship in an almost irreversible way.

Even so, I'm reaching my limit. Living with Leonardo has become a martyrdom. The conversations have turned into friction. The hugs have disappeared. The home we once tried to build has become just a cold space, with silent walls and lost looks.

And now, between the fear of disappointing others and the desire to be happy… I am divided. All I know is that I can't stand this double life anymore. Nor Rodrigo's absence. Nor Leonardo's presence.

The clock read 6:47 PM when Samantha closed the last case of the day. The room was silent, the other employees had already left. Only the sound of the air conditioning filled the environment—and the almost imperceptible noise of footsteps she already recognized from afar.

Rodrigo entered, without knocking, as he always did. The impeccable suit, the tie slightly loosened, and that look that, from the beginning, managed to break through the defenses she tried to erect.

"Can we talk?" he asked, his voice low but firm.

Samantha sighed and gestured for him to sit down. Rodrigo pulled the chair in front of her and rested his elbows on the table, staring at her intensely.

"Have you decided?" he went straight to the point.

"Rodrigo..." she looked away, nervously shuffling the papers in front of her "You know it's not that simple."

"Isn't it?" he retorted, leaning in a little closer. "You yourself told me that you don't love Leonardo. That you are only together out of obligation. That you barely speak. Why prolong this suffering, Sam?"

She closed her eyes for a second, feeling the weight of guilt tighten her chest.

"I don't want to hurt him... And there's my parents. They had so many expectations for this marriage. They always saw Leonardo as the ideal man. If I separate, everything will fall apart."

Rodrigo laughed, but without humor.

"And when are you going to start thinking about yourself? Are you going to live your whole life trying to please others? Hiding what you feel?"

"It's not just about pleasing," she retorted, her voice trembling. "It's about taking responsibility for the choices I made. I said 'yes' at the altar. I can't just throw everything away as if it meant nothing."

Rodrigo stood up, walking slowly around the table, until he stopped beside her.

"And what does it mean to stay married to someone you don't love?" he asked, more calmly. "It's not fair to you. And, if you want to know, it's not fair to him either."

Samantha swallowed hard. She felt as if she were trapped on a tightrope, trying to balance reason and emotion, past and future.

"I need time," she whispered, finally. "Just a little more. I need to find a way to do this in the least painful way possible."

Rodrigo nodded, although his eyes showed impatience.

"Alright... I'll wait. But not for long, Sam. Life doesn't stop for those who are afraid to live. And I... I want to live by your side."

He leaned down and kissed her forehead gently. Then, he left the room, leaving Samantha alone—surrounded by papers, doubts, and a divided heart.

The front door opened with a dry snap. I heard Shamantha's hurried steps, her heels abandoned on the floor and her purse tossed on the living room sideboard. It was already past ten at night. The house was plunged into a suffocating silence—until my voice broke it, coming from the kitchen:

"You're getting home late again, Shamantha."

I didn't speak loudly, nor angrily. I was just... tired. Tired of repeating the same words.

She rolled her eyes, the way she did when she wanted to end any conversation.

"Oh, Leonardo... Please, don't start."

"I'm not starting. I'm just observing. You leave early and come back whenever you want. I'm your husband, Shamantha. Not a tenant in this house."

"And what do you want me to do? Quit my job?" she retorted, throwing her blazer over the dining room chair. "If you haven't noticed yet, I have a life too, Leonardo. A real job that demands my time and attention!"

"And what does our marriage demand? Nothing?" I got up from the chair, heading to the hallway, getting closer to her. "You want to keep up appearances, but you don't even look at me anymore."

"Maybe because I'm tired of arguing every single day!" she snapped back, with the same intensity. "You're always demanding things of me, judging me, as if you did me a favor by marrying me. And you know what's worse? I actually did! I married you on impulse. Under pressure!"

I took a deep breath. I tried to hold back the lump that was starting to grow in my throat. But my eyes were already burning.

"So that's it now? You're going to throw in my face that our marriage was a mistake?"

"Don't you see, Leo? We're not a couple anymore! All that's left is routine, demands, and silence. And I'm fed up with it!"

I didn't say anything else. I went back to the kitchen. The food was already cold. I sat down, picked up my fork, and continued dinner as best I could.

She followed me in silence, sitting down on the other side of the table. She kept stirring her food, without taking a bite.

"If you're not going to eat, why did you sit down?" I asked, without taking my eyes off the plate.

"Out of politeness," she replied dryly. "Or maybe because I'm still trying to maintain some normalcy in this farce."

I dropped the cutlery forcefully on the plate.

"This isn't a farce to me, Shamantha. I still love you. And I don't know what else to do to save this marriage. But you don't help, you don't try. You just drift further away every day."

She stared at me for a few seconds. Then she got up without saying a word and went to the bedroom.

Later, already lying down, I felt the mattress sink on the other side. I moved closer slowly. I pulled back the sheets and lay down beside her. We stayed in silence. The room dark, the air heavy. I gently touched her arm.

"Sam..." I murmured, leaning in to kiss her.

She turned her face away, avoiding my touch.

"No, Leonardo... Please."

"Please what?" I insisted, trying to stay calm. "You avoid me, you treat me like a stranger. Now I can't even touch you anymore?"

"It's not the moment, Leonardo. I'm not feeling well. I don't have the head for this."

"You never are!" I exploded, sitting up in bed. "The truth is that you don't want to be with me anymore. It's been almost a month since we made love. I'm a man, Sam. I love you. But you don't love me anymore, it can only be that."

"What if it's true?" she looked at me coldly. "What are you going to do? Are you going to force me to continue in this prison that our life has become?"

Her words were like knives. I stayed silent, digesting each one with difficulty.

"I just wanted you to be sincere. To tell me what's happening. Because, honestly, this indifference is killing me."

She turned her back, pulling the sheet up to her chin.

"Good night, Leonardo."

I stayed there, sitting for long minutes, staring at the dark ceiling of the room. Feeling that each of my attempts was just another step in the direction of the end.

And, in that deafening silence, I knew: something between us was about to break for good.

The next morning arrived with the first rays of sun piercing through the curtains. It was Saturday. The only day of the week when, before, we used to be closer. Now, it was just another day where the silence spoke too loudly.

I woke up before the alarm. I turned and watched her sleeping on her side, her hair loose covering part of her face. She was still beautiful. And maybe my mistake was loving so much someone who was no longer there.

Carefully, I approached and slowly kissed her neck, in a gesture almost desperate for connection.

"Good morning..." I murmured, still with a voice hoarse from sleep.

She stirred, annoyed.

"Leonardo, no..." she said, pulling away sharply. "Please, don't start with this so early."

I moved away, feeling as if I had been slapped.

"“This”?" I repeated, hurt. "I just wanted to say good morning. To be affectionate with my wife. But it seems I can't even do that anymore."

She turned her back, pulling the sheet up to her neck.

"You always choose the worst moments... I just wanted to sleep a little longer. Isn't the whole week exhausting enough?"

I sat up in bed, rubbing my face with my hands.

"It's not just sleep, Shamantha. You push me away every day. Any touch of mine is rejected. Any word turns into an argument. I feel invisible inside our own house."

"Because you don't understand, Leonardo!" she turned, sitting up in bed with furious eyes. "I'm not feeling well! I don't want to pretend that everything is fine between us. I don't want forced affections, nor kisses out of obligation. It just suffocates me more!"

"Then tell me what you want!" I got up, losing control. "Because I've tried everything! I've been patient, I've been present, I've begged for a gesture from you... And nothing! What do you want from me, Shamantha?"

She stared at me, her eyes full of anger—and maybe of pain too.

"I want peace, Leonardo. That's all. I want to stop living this lie. I want to wake up without feeling this weight on my chest."

"And I am the weight?" I asked, bitterly.

"We are for each other. This relationship is suffocating us. Only you haven't realized it yet."

I went to the window and opened the curtains forcefully. The light invaded the room as if it could also illuminate the darkness that had settled between us.

"So that's it? Are you going to spend the weekend treating me like a stranger?"

She didn't answer. She just lay down again and turned her face away.

I looked at her one last time, then left the room. And the sound of the door closing behind me sounded like a period. As if, there, what was left of us had begun to crumble for good.

Saturday dragged on. I was sitting in the living room, pretending to read something on my phone, but in reality, each step Shamantha took down the hallway hurt me more than the last. The sound of her heel hitting the floor was like a cruel reminder: she always had time to go out—never to stay.

She appeared in the doorway with her usual pose: a discreet bag hanging on her shoulder, hair loose, light but impeccable makeup. The same sweet perfume that once enchanted me filled the room for a second. And, in that second, all I felt was distance.

"Are you going out?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

"Yes. I need to sort out some things with Silvia," she replied without looking me in the eye. And without any effort to seem convincing.

I just nodded. I no longer had the strength to argue. The words had lost their meaning. The excuses, their weight. She left without even saying goodbye.

I stayed there for a few minutes, trying to decide whether to remain trapped in that silence or find a way to escape myself. I grabbed the keys and left. I needed to breathe. To think. Or maybe just drive, aimlessly, like someone trying to escape an internal fire.

After driving around for a while, I stopped at a cafe downtown. It was one of my favorite places before I got married. A place where time seemed to slow down. As soon as I walked in, I smelled fresh coffee and soft instrumental music. For a moment, I almost felt peace.

But it didn't last long.

I froze.

There, in the corner of the room, was her. Shamantha. With Rodrigo.

They weren't just talking. They were too close. Their eyes glued together, their gestures too intimate. Rodrigo was holding her hand, and she was caressing his fingers with a naturalness I hadn't seen in recent months.

I couldn't breathe. Everything around me disappeared. The floor, the sound, the smell of coffee… everything vanished. All that remained was that scene. The betrayal stamped right there. The confirmation of what my heart had been screaming for a long time, but that my mind insisted on denying.

Rodrigo leaned in and whispered something in her ear. And she smiled.

She smiled. With a sparkle she hadn't used with me for a long time.

At that moment, I thought about going over there. Confronting them. Yelling. Saying everything that was stuck in my throat. Asking why.

But no.

I took a step back. Then another. And I left. I left with my heart in pieces and my dignity hanging by a thread. I left as if I had never entered. No one noticed. No one noticed the shattered man crossing the doorway.

Outside, the sun no longer shone as before.

And there I understood: the end wouldn't come with an explosion. It was coming little by little. In silence. In every cold morning. In every excuse. In every denied kiss.

And now… in that cafe.

(Shamantha)

I drove back home with my hands firmly on the steering wheel, but my thoughts far away. I could still feel Rodrigo's touch on my skin, his easy laughter, the lightness of our meeting. How long had it been since I felt like that? Free. Desired. Alive.

But when I looked at the clock and saw that it was past ten, I felt that familiar cold in my stomach. Leonardo.

I could already imagine the scene: him on the couch, a closed expression on his face, arms crossed, ready to interrogate me. Always the same. The tension grew between us like a bomb about to explode.

I parked in the garage, took a deep breath, grabbed my bag, and went inside. I entered slowly, like someone who already feels guilty even before being accused.

But, to my surprise, everything was silent. The house was dark. No lights on. Nothing.

"Leonardo?" I called softly, taking off my shoes.

Silence.

I checked the kitchen. The bedroom. Even the bathroom. Nothing.

I sighed. A bitter relief.

For the first time in a long time, he wasn't there. He wasn't waiting. He wasn't complaining. He wasn't… anywhere.

I sat on the sofa with a cup of tea. I turned on the television, put on any channel just to drown out the sound of my thoughts. And I stayed there, motionless. Outwardly, calm. Inwardly… restless.

Half-past eleven.

Midnight.

Nothing.

I got up and started pacing. I picked up my phone. I called. It went to voicemail. I tried again. And again.

"Answer, Leonardo…" I murmured, my throat tight.

I tried to remember if he had mentioned any outing. Any appointment. Nothing. His silence that morning had been different. Heavier. As if he had already given up on me and I hadn't noticed.

At one in the morning, I called three more times. Nothing. No message. No sign.

At two, tired and with my heart racing, I lay down. But sleep didn't come.

The pillow next to me was cold. Untouched. A silent warning that something was really wrong. Leonardo always came back. Always.

My chest ached. My mind raced. For the first time in a long time, I didn't feel anger… I felt fear.

What if something had happened?

What if...

I turned over, hugged the pillow, and closed my eyes tightly. But it was useless. The guilt was already there, sitting on the edge of the bed, whispering everything I had avoided hearing for so long.

And in that silent dawn, I realized: as much as I had believed that I no longer loved him, his absence hurt me in a place I didn't even know existed.

And maybe… just maybe…

I was realizing this too late.