We’ve been together for almost a year. Today we got married on the beach. Don’t do dramas.Cu You were always too cold for me.

At 8:05 they knocked on the door. On camera I saw two municipal police officers.

—Mariana Torres? —asked one—. Your husband reported that you left him outside your home.

I barely opened.

—My husband? How curious. Last night he told me that he had just married another woman.

I showed them the message. The senior policeman read it silently. The young man bit his mouth so as not to laugh.

—If the property is in your name, ma’am, we cannot force you to let it in.

—It’s in my name.

—Document everything.

That’s what I did.

By noon he already had his things in boxes: shirts, shoes, falsely expensive watches, perfumes, cables, papers, a console and books that he never opened. All labeled. Not out of affection. By strategy.

At two o’clock the entire circus arrived: Raúl with dark glasses, Fernanda in a white beach dress, Doña Lupita —her mother— crying as if she were coming to a funeral, and her sister Patricia recording with her cell phone.

—You can’t run my son like a dog —Doña Lupita shouted.