“I was planning to tell you. But Andrés told me he was sick. Then he begged me for time to write everything down. I gave him a deadline. Today.”
“Our wedding?” Diego said.
“I told him after the wedding. Not before. I thought you deserved a day without him.”
Andrés whispered, “It was my fault.”
I turned to him.
“You can’t back down now. You made your choices.”
"I know."
Her face crumbled.
"No."
I let out a humorless laugh.
“Don’t rewrite history.”
“I’m not. I said horrible things that night. I was scared, selfish, and cruel. But I didn’t leave because he was a child.”
He looked at Diego.
“Because I had already become someone I hated. I was gambling. I owed money. I had taken cash from your mother, and I knew that if I stayed, I would keep taking it. So I left. Afterward, I felt ashamed. And the shame lingered for years.”
Diego stared at him.
“Is that your explanation?”
“No,” Andrés said. “That’s the truth. Not an excuse.”
Diego looked at Javier.
“You should have told me.”
