PART 2
The building manager arrived first, looking like he didn’t want to get involved. Then two police officers arrived. I was still in the hallway, holding Mateo in my arms, feeling every stitch from the C-section as if my body wanted to remind me that I wasn’t in the mood to fight.
Diego tried to smile.
“It’s a family misunderstanding,” he said. “Valeria just gave birth. She’s sensitive.”
Doña Lourdes touched her chest like a soap opera actress.
“He wants to upset me. He knows I’m in delicate health.”
I didn’t say much. I opened my bag, took out my ID, the digital deeds, the property tax receipts, and the apartment purchase documents. Everything was in my name.
The police officer looked at Diego and asked him:
“Do you have any document that proves ownership or authorization to prevent you from entering?”
Diego remained silent.
That silence was louder than any shout.
That same afternoon, they filed a report, called a locksmith, and changed the digital lock in front of everyone. Diego stared at the new keypad as if something of his were being ripped away. Doña Lourdes tried to leave carrying a huge screen, saying that “Diego had also contributed money to the house.”
I opened my phone and showed her the receipt.
I had paid for the screen.
For the first time, Doña Lourdes lowered her gaze.
My father arrived later, serious, without making a scene. My mother took Mateo and whispered in my ear:
“You’re home now, daughter. Even though this house has been messed up by them.”
But I couldn’t sleep there anymore. Not with that feeling that
