Octavio

The house was too quiet after he left for work. Large, luxurious, immaculate — and empty. She was walking down the hallway when her cell phone vibrated. A notification from the security camera. Without imagining anything serious, she opened the app… and the air left her lungs. The image showed the exterior of the house. The side door. Two figures standing there. They weren't employees. They weren't acquaintances. Her heart began to race. She tried to call her husband immediately. She called once. Nothing. She called again. Voicemail. Fear rose like a lump in my throat. She walked silently to his office—that room he always kept locked, too organized, as if hiding more than just documents. She went in and locked the door carefully, without making a sound. Another alert from the camera. A short beep. They had gone inside. Without thinking, she crouched down and hid under the large wooden table, pulling her legs up to her chest. She hugged her knees tightly, trying to hold her breath. The scent of his cologne was still there. It only confused her more. He tried to call again. His hands were shaking so much he could barely touch the screen. Nothing. Then, the security system started beeping louder. Automatic alerts were being sent. Somewhere in the city, his cell phone started vibrating incessantly, warning that something very wrong was happening at the house. She heard distant footsteps. Muffled voices. She couldn't make out the words, only the certainty that she wasn't alone. There, hidden in the darkness of the office, she realized something she had never dared to face: she didn't know everything about the man she married. And those people… perhaps they were proof of that. Her cell phone vibrated suddenly. She almost let out a startled sound.