Rafael was no longer just a driver.
The mansion was no longer a place of silent order.
And Mateo… was no longer completely invisible.
Some things had been lost.
Comfort.
Certainty.
The illusion that everything was as it should be.
But something else had taken their place.
A fragile awareness.
A quiet shift that could not be undone.
One evening, as Rafael sat again in his apartment, the same dim light surrounding him, he thought about the cost of what he had done.
It had not been dramatic.
It had not been immediate.
But it was real.
And it would continue.
He closed his eyes for a moment, recalling Mateo’s voice, not the fear this time, but the slight steadiness that had followed.
It wasn’t a perfect ending.
It wasn’t even an ending at all.
But it was something that had begun.
And sometimes, that was the only thing a person could choose.
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