PART 1

“If your husband ever gives you a necklace, put it in water before you wear it.”

The woman said it to me on a crowded minibus as if she had known me for years. I almost laughed—but something in her eyes stopped me cold.

My name is Daniela Vargas. I’m thirty-five and work as an accounting assistant at a construction company in northern Mexico City.

My life was routine. Quiet. Exhausting.

Late nights at the office, crowded bus rides home, and a small rented apartment in a neighborhood where everyone knew more than they should.

From the outside, my marriage to Mauricio looked normal.

We had been together eight years. No children. Shared bills. Shared space.

But little by little, we stopped sharing anything else.

First came the late nights.
Then the phone calls taken in the hallway.
Then his phone always face down.