Six years ago, my husband cheated, drained our accounts, and vanished. No goodbye. No explanation. Just an empty space where my life used to be.
Last year, I started seeing someone new. Aron was different: funny, gentle, and made the future feel possible again. Eight months in, I met his family. His sister, Yanira, kept studying me like she was trying to place me from some forgotten memory. After dinner, she pulled me aside.
“Is your name… Maura Jensen?”
I nodded.
“You were married to Dario Vasquez?”
My stomach lurched.
“I think my brother knows him,” she whispered. “Really well. Ask Aron about Augustine.”
That night, I tried to sound casual. “Who’s Augustine?”
Aron stiffened. “Someone from the past.” The first lie I ever caught in his eyes.
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