Almost.
Then it dies.
“Will you ever forgive me?”
You look at the birthday banner.
Then at Rocky’s clean dish on the shelf.
“I don’t know.”
That answer hurts him.
Good.
Some hurt teaches the shape of what was broken.
The next thirty days become the longest month of your life.
Luis sleeps on the couch because he cannot stand the bedroom he shared with Karla. He moves through the house like a ghost at first, quiet and ashamed. Then anger returns in bursts. He complains that you are treating him like a criminal. He snaps when you ask for receipts. He sulks when Arriaga schedules repayment discussions.
But he also starts cleaning.
Badly.
He burns rice trying to cook.
He finds a temporary warehouse job through a neighbor’s nephew and comes home with sore shoulders and a face full of disbelief that money can require pain. He sells his game console, two watches, and the expensive sneakers he bought with your card.
Every time he tries to complain, you show him the spreadsheet.
That ends most conversations.
Karla’s story unravels fast.
She is five months pregnant, not three.
The baby may be Daniel’s.
Daniel is married.
That one arrives like a bad joke. His wife shows up at your gate one Tuesday afternoon, holding screenshots and fury. She is seven months postpartum with their second child. She had no idea about Karla, Luis, or your house.
