One afternoon, we found ourselves in my car, a luxurious Seat Leon model, engaged in conversation and laughter. Accidentally pressing a button on the steering wheel control, the music mode shifted from Bluetooth streaming to the radio. Surprisingly, a famous Mexican song filled the air, singing, "Friends, just friends and nothing more… How much I would give to shout our love to them, to tell them that when we close the door we love each other without control…"
For a brief moment, we sat in stillness, locking eyes, and then burst into laughter, sharing a complicit kiss. I dropped her off at her apartment that night, bidding her farewell with a kiss before heading home.
"Just friends." That's how my life unfolded during that period. Mornings were consumed by work—meetings, tasks, and orders. Yet, in moments of solitude, we seized the opportunity to flirt, share kisses, or simply exchange meaningful glances. We tried to be discreet, but I suspect some astute eyes perceived the reality, quickly dismissing it due to the age difference and their knowledge of me as a family man.
Life appeared stable. My family was in good condition—my wife's love had returned, no signs of her previous depression, and my child's health was improving. My professional life was flourishing. Meanwhile, Leonor (Layla), now working with me, was leading an honest life.
In her executive-style tailored suit, she exuded charm and beauty. We facilitated her admission to university, and, as she revealed, her true passion was international business. "I will be your partner," she assured me. She also expressed, "I don't want you to leave your wife or child. Whatever love you have left after them, I want it for myself." She believed it was better for her to step back than to cause me more significant problems, emphasizing that she would never forgive me for abandoning my family.
My routine was structured—mornings at work, afternoons with Leonor managing my tasks, and evenings dedicated to supporting my wife with our child's needs. Occasionally, a couple of times a week, I had "business dinners," which were, in reality, dates with Leonor—though not all concluded in intimacy.
Little did I know the thoughts brewing in Leonor's mind during those moments.