She wrote those words on her bathroom mirror with a dry-erase marker. She said them aloud while making tea. She whispered them into her pillow on the bad nights. The sixth month, she woke up and forgot to think of him first. It happened suddenly, the way a fever breaks. She was brushing her teeth, planning her day, when she realized— I didn’t check if he texted. And then she realized she didn’t care.
That night, she sat on the edge of her bed, staring at her phone. Three months since Mateo had walked out. Three months of waking up with a fist-shaped hollow in her chest. Three months of replaying every conversation, every silence, every lie she’d pretended not to see. Posdata- dejaras de doler - YULIBETH RGpdf
“P.D. – tenías razón. Dejó de doler.” She wrote those words on her bathroom mirror
