Chapter 3 - The Sanctuary of First Steps
Three weeks after the aborted wedding, the chaos of the outside world felt a million miles away.
I sat in a comfortable rocking chair in the living room of a bright, newly rented apartment in the bohemian neighborhood of Coyoacán. Through the open window, the sweet scent of blooming jacarandas drifted inside, mixing with the gentle hum of a ceiling fan.
My son, Mateo, was sleeping soundly in his wooden crib against the wall, his tiny chest rising and falling in perfect peace.
Leaving the hospital had been daunting, but the moment I stepped across the threshold of this little apartment—secured with my own hard-earned savings and a small severance package from my nursing job—I knew I was finally safe.
There was no Antonio here. No screaming matches, no demands, no suffocating fear of the future.
Just me, my son, and a quiet resilience I didn't know I possessed.
My phone buzzed on the side table. I glanced at the screen, expecting a notification from the hospital scheduling department or my mother checking in from her hometown.
Instead, the caller ID displayed a name I never expected to see again: Monica.
My thumb hovered over the screen for a few seconds. My heart gave an anxious flutter. But taking a slow breath, I swiped to answer.
“Hello, Monica?” I said, my voice cautious.
“Jisela,” Monica’s voice came through the speaker. It was quiet, steady, and stripped of all the aristocratic polish she had worn the day we met. “I hope I’m not disturbing you. Or... or waking the baby.”
“No,” I said softly. “Mateo is sleeping. Is everything alright?”
There was a long pause on the other end of the line. I could hear the faint sound of traffic in the background, like she was sitting in a car or walking through a park.
“I’m not sure if ‘alright’ is the right word,” Monica admitted, a dry, humorless chuckle escaping her lips. “My life has completely imploded. The annulment was finalized yesterday. My family name has been dragged through every gossip rag in the country. And I’ve spent the last three weeks hiding in my family’s estate in Cuernavaca, trying to figure out who I am when I’m not someone’s fiancée.”
I listened without interrupting. I understood that kind of shattering. I knew what it felt like to have your entire world torn apart by a man who treated you like a disposable option.
“I’m sorry, Monica,” I said genuinely. “You didn't deserve any of that.”
“None of us did,” Monica replied softly. Then, her tone shifted, gaining a spark of determination. “Which is why I’m calling. I’m back in the city today. And... if it’s okay with you, and if you’re up for visitors... I’d like to come by.”
I blinked in surprise. “You want to come here?”
“Only if you’ll have me,” she said. “I don't want anything from you, Jisela. I just... I want to see Mateo. And I think, perhaps, two women who survived the exact same disaster might have something to say to each other.”
May you like
A slow, genuine smile spread across my face.
“Address is sent,” I said. “I’ll put the coffee on.”
