Chapter 18 - THE WOMEN ARTURO UNDERESTIMATED
A year after table seven, Mariana met Camila for coffee.
Not friendship.
Not forgiveness.
Paperwork.
A remaining legal declaration needed signatures.
Camila arrived ten minutes late with baby Lucía asleep against her chest.
“Sorry.”
“Babies disrespect calendars.”
Camila smiled.
She looked different.
Tired.
Less polished.
More solid.
After signing, neither woman left immediately.
Camila said:
“I used to think you had everything.”
“I used to think you wanted everything I had.”
“I wanted the expensive parts.”
“At least you’re specific.”
They laughed.
Then Camila became serious.
“I’m sorry.”
Mariana looked out the window.
“I know.”
“That’s not forgiveness.”
“No.”
Camila nodded.
“I think I finally understand that.”
Mariana asked whether Arturo had seen the baby.
Supervised visits.
Irregular.
He complained about restrictions.
Camila no longer argued with him by text.
Her lawyer had taught her to write only facts.
Mariana approved.
Then Camila asked:
“Did you ever love him after you knew?”
The question irritated Mariana.
Because the answer was yes.
For a while.
Love did not switch off when evidence arrived.
That was one reason betrayal hurt.
“Yes.”
Camila looked relieved.
“Me too.”
Neither was proud of it.
Neither needed to be.
Across town, Sofía and Isabel’s mother, Rosa, met for the first time.
The meeting went badly.
Rosa told Sofía:
“You got to grow old with your husband.”
Sofía replied:
“Yes.”
No defense.
Rosa cried.
Sofía cried.
They did not hug.
Sometimes the respectful ending was distance.
That night Mariana walked through the Gran Hotel Alvarado.
The portrait of Efraín remained.
Beside it hung no saintly plaque.
Only dates, achievements, and a note directing guests to the public history archive documenting the Puebla collapse.
Mariana stopped.
For the first time, she could look at her father without needing him to be perfect.
Then Diego called from reception.
“Mariana, there’s a gentleman asking for the presidential suite.”
She smiled.
“Does he have a reservation?”
“No.”
“Then he can wait like everyone else.”
The old Mariana would have called that ordinary.
May you like
Now she called it progress.
