The little flames had almost gone out when I heard footsteps behind me.

I didn’t turn around.

I already knew who it was.

Alejandro stopped several meters from Santi’s grave.

For a few seconds, neither of us spoke.

Then his voice came from behind me, irritated rather than concerned.

“Fernanda, what are you doing in the cemetery this late?”

My fingers tightened around the photograph in my lap.

He still didn’t understand.

Or perhaps he simply hadn’t bothered to look.

Alejandro walked closer.

“Didn’t you hear me? I said I’d come home tonight. Why aren’t you at the clinic with Santi?”

I slowly stood.

The burned remains of the toy car lay beside the grave.

Alejandro finally looked down.

His eyes stopped on the name carved into the stone.

SANTIAGO VARGAS.

His entire body froze.

For the first time in seven days, Alejandro became completely silent.

He stared at the grave.

Then at me.

Then back at the grave.

“What is this?”

His voice sounded strangely hollow.

I said nothing.

His breathing became heavier.

“Fernanda.”

He stepped toward the tombstone.

“What kind of sick joke is this?”

A bitter laugh escaped me.

Even now, he believed reality had to be a joke because the truth was too inconvenient for him.

Alejandro crouched down and touched Santi’s photograph attached to the grave marker.

His hand began trembling.

“No.”

One word.

Very quiet.

Then louder.

“No.”

He turned toward me abruptly.

“Where is my son?”

I looked directly into his eyes.

“You’re standing in front of him.”

The color disappeared from his face.

“No.”

“He died four days ago.”

“That’s impossible.”

“You would know if you had answered your phone.”

His lips parted, but no sound came out.

I continued calmly.

“I called you eleven times.”

Alejandro staggered backward.

“I was…”

“At Sofía’s birthday party.”

His eyes widened.

I took my phone from my coat and opened the call history.

Eleven unanswered calls.

Then the messages.

“Santi is getting worse.”

“The doctor says you need to come.”

“Please, Alejandro.”

“He keeps asking for you.”

The final message had been sent at 2:13 in the morning.

“Santi is gone.”

Alejandro stared at the screen.

His knees suddenly hit the ground.

“No…”

I had imagined this moment many times.

I thought seeing him finally understand might make me angry.

Instead, I felt nothing.

It was as if every emotion connected to this man had already been buried beside our son.

Alejandro grabbed my wrist.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

I pulled my hand away.

“Everyone tried.”

He shook his head violently.

“My phone was off.”

“No. Your phone was on.”

His expression changed.

I opened another message.

The General had sent him one.

The base physician had sent two.

One of Alejandro’s own captains had even written:

“Colonel, please contact your wife immediately. Your son is critical.”

Every message showed the same status.

Read.

Alejandro stared at the word.

Read.

Read.

Read.

Then suddenly he seemed to remember something.

His face became even paler.

“Valeria had my phone.”

I looked at him.

There it was.

Another excuse.

But this time, something about his expression was different.

He wasn’t defending Valeria.

He looked frightened.

“She said the command kept calling about paperwork,” he murmured. “She told me she handled it.”

I felt my stomach tighten.

“Handled it?”

Alejandro stood abruptly.

He called Valeria.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

No answer.

His hands were shaking now.

Then something else occurred to him.

He turned toward me.

“The funeral…”

“Was three days ago.”

His breathing stopped.

“You buried him without me?”

That finally made anger flare inside me.

“Without you?”

I stepped closer.

“Santi waited for you until he couldn’t wait anymore.”

Alejandro’s eyes turned red.

“He defended you even while he was sick. He told me you were protecting the country. He begged me not to be angry with you.”

My voice cracked despite everything.

“And while your son was asking when his father would arrive, you were cooking eggs for someone else’s daughter.”

Alejandro looked as if I had struck him.

I took one last photograph from my bag.

Santi at the hospital.

I placed it beside the grave.

“Your son’s last wish was to see you.”

Alejandro covered his face.

For the first time in all the years I had known him, Colonel Alejandro Vargas broke down.

But I was already walking away.

“Fernanda!”

I stopped without turning.

“Come home with me.”

“I don’t have a home here anymore.”

“We can fix this.”

“No.”

“Santi wouldn’t want us—”

I spun around.

“Don’t use my son to save our marriage.”

He fell silent.

Then I said the words he still didn’t understand.

“And even if I wanted to return, I couldn’t.”

His brows drew together.

“What does that mean?”

“The papers you signed weren’t insurance documents.”

His expression slowly changed.

I held his gaze.

“They were divorce papers.”

Alejandro went completely still.

“You’re lying.”

“The General approved them yesterday.”

He reached inside his uniform as though searching for something that wasn’t there.

“Fernanda…”

“As of yesterday afternoon, Colonel Vargas, I am no longer your wife.”

I turned and left him beside our son’s grave.

That should have been the end.

But the next morning, while I was packing the final suitcase for my bus home, someone hammered desperately on my door.

It was the General.

His face was grave.

Two military police officers stood behind him.

“Fernanda, I need you to come with us.”

My heart tightened.

“Why?”

The General handed me Alejandro’s phone.

On the screen was an audio recording recovered from Valeria’s account.

Her voice came first.

“If Fernanda finds out what happened that night, Alejandro will never forgive me.”

Then another woman answered.

I recognized the voice immediately.

It belonged to the nurse who had been on duty when Santi was admitted.

And what she said next made my suitcase slip from my hand.

“You should have thought of that before you ordered me not to notify the Colonel that his son was dying.”