He came running in, his face pale, his eyes full of terror at the sight of me with the bandages and an expression of anguish.
“Elena! My love! What happened? I just got a call! Are you okay? And the baby?”
He knelt beside the bed, his trembling hands caressing my face, then my belly.
His concern seemed genuine, his anguish palpable.
But the image of Sofia, his sister, screaming and attacking me, was superimposed on that of Mateo.
“Matthew,” I said, my voice barely audible. “Your sister… she attacked me. She said strange things. Your mother says she’s sick.”
Mateo pressed his lips together, his gaze meeting Doña Clara’s. A silent exchange passed between them.
An understanding that completely excluded me.
“Sofia has problems, Elena,” Mateo said, his voice subdued. “She has for years. It’s a shame. I don’t know what’s wrong with her.”
But her tone wasn’t convincing. There was a shadow in her eyes, an evasiveness.
“What kind of problems, Mateo?” I pressed, my heart beginning to pound with suspicion. “She told me she couldn’t have ‘her baby.’ Who was she talking about?”
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Mateo stood up, taking a step away from the bed.
“Don’t listen to her, Elena. She’s delusional. She’s making things up. You’re pregnant with our baby, that’s all there is to it.”
But the panic in her eyes, the way she avoided my gaze, told me she was lying.
Doña Clara also got up, approached Mateo and put a hand on his arm.
“Son, go talk to the doctor and the police. Elena needs to rest.”
It was a maneuver to get Mateo away, to prevent me from continuing to ask questions.
But the seed of doubt had already been planted, germinating in my mind.
Mateo kissed my forehead and left, his pace was slower than usual.
Doña Clara turned towards me, her expression now one of somber seriousness.
“Elena, please, I ask you not to take what Sofia said seriously. She’s a disturbed woman. What matters is that you and the baby are okay.”
“But what if it’s not delusions, Doña Clara?” I asked, my voice trembling. “What if there’s something more they’re not telling me?”
She sat down again, this time closer, her eyes fixed on mine.
“There are secrets in every family, Elena. Some are for protection. Others, to avoid further pain.”
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“But this is my life, Doña Clara. And my baby’s life. We deserve to know the truth.”
He sighed again, more deeply this time. “The truth… sometimes the truth is a weapon, Elena. And it can destroy everyone.”
“Sofia has had a very difficult life. And Mateo… Mateo has made mistakes. Very big mistakes.”
My heart skipped a beat. “Mistakes. What mistakes, Doña Clara?”
She bit her lip, her eyes searching for an answer somewhere far away.
“I can’t tell you, Elena. Not yet. But I promise I’ll do everything I can to make sure nothing like this happens to you again. And to ensure your baby is born in peace.”
It was a vow of silence, a half-fulfilled promise, which only increased my anguish.
I felt like I was caught in a web of family secrets, and I was the fly that had just fallen into it.
The image of Sofia, screaming with so much hatred, was still etched in my mind.
And the way Mateo and Doña Clara protected each other, hiding something.
My whole world, the one I thought was safe and full of love, was crumbling brick by brick.
Could I trust Matthew? Or was it all a charade, a carefully constructed lie?
The darkness of the night seeped in through the window, as dense as my thoughts.
The Naked Truth
The following days in the hospital were a silent torture. Mateo visited me, trying to be his usual self.
He brought me flowers, read me books, talked about the future. But I felt him distant, his gaze evasive.
The police took my statement. Sofia was admitted to a psychiatric center, according to Doña Clara.
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