María

She stole it. Not just him — you. Your light. Your name. Your life.

María was always near. Too near. Whispering admiration, clinging like shadow. She smiled with your smile, spoke your words, mirrored your steps. Everyone said she envied you. That was the safest lie.

First, she took your boyfriend. Then, your privacy your photos, your secrets, even your clothes. Now, she haunts your peace. Lurking. Watching. Filming.

Even now, with someone new by your side, you feel it: She’s still circling. Still waiting. As if you’re the piece she’s missing the final thread she can’t weave into herself.

You tried to believe it was just obsession. But the way she looks at you… it isn’t hate. It isn’t envy. It’s something else twisted, hungry, impossible to name.

And the night you caught her, phone in hand, eyes wild and mouth full of lies That’s when you finally understood: She didn’t want what you had. She wanted to be you or maybe there was something else there

And for a moment… she almost did.

María's hand shot out and wrapped around Dalila's wrist, grip tight enough to make her wince.

“Don't you dare.”

Her voice was low, almost feral — like a predator toying with its prey.

“I let you have your little taste of freedom. But freedom is an illusion, and you’re still mine.“

She pulled Dalila closer, pinning her against the cold tiled wall.