"I went."
"And you looked at our daughter afterward and put her to bed and said nothing."
Marco's throat moved. "Every time. I told myself I would tell you after the next visit. Then the next. Delay becomes a habitat if you live in it long enough."
Elena pressed the heel of her hand against her sternum. "I keep waiting for the affair version to be true, because the affair version would be simpler to hate. This version requires me to hate the secrecy and still recognize the care. It is harder. It feels like doing math during an earthquake."
"I will answer every question you have," Marco said. "Dates. Times. What we talked about in the car. What Ricardo said. I will not ask you to be grateful."
"Good," Elena said. "Because gratitude is not available today. Maybe not this month."
A doctor walked past with a tablet. Somewhere a monitor alarm chirped and was silenced. Carmen returned, eyes red, and the three of them rode the elevator in a silence that was not empty so much as crowded with everything they were not saying in front of strangers.