I remained kneeling on the ground, the accreditation document trembling between my fingers.
The room was turning.
I had to put a hand on the ground to avoid falling.
I read that name once.
Then another one.
**Mariana Salvatierra.**
Below the photo, an address in Monterrey was written in official characters.
And further down still, that word that had broken me in two:
**Marry.**
I felt something break inside me with a dry, invisible, and final sound.
Alejandro hadn't just lied to me.
