“And your parents?” he asked.
“Yes. Call them. Tell them… I’m back.”
By 4:00 AM, my room had been transformed. My parents, weeping and shaking, were sitting by my side, holding my hands as if their grip alone kept me tethered to earth. A lawyer, a sharp-eyed woman named Ms. Castillo, sat with a notepad, recording my raspy testimony.
“We need to catch them in the act,” Ms. Castillo said, her eyes gleaming. “If we confront them now, they might spin it. But if they sign the papers to end your life… that is attempted murder. If they sign the papers to sell the baby… that is trafficking.”
“Let them come,” I said, the coldness in my voice surprising even me. “Let them think they’ve won.”
Day 30. 10:00 AM.
The room was staged. I lay back, eyes closed, feigning the coma. The monitors were turned down low. My parents were hiding in the adjoining bathroom. The lawyer and two police officers were watching the camera feed from the security room.
The door opened.
“Finally,” Teresa’s voice. “Let’s get this over with. The notary is waiting downstairs.”
“It feels weird, knowing she’s just… gonna stop,” Andrés said.
“She stopped thirty days ago, Andrés. Stop being weak,” Teresa snapped. “Think of the money. Think of Karla.”
“I am thinking of Karla,” he muttered. “She’s waiting in the car with the car seat for the… other issue.”
“Good. The buyer is meeting us at noon.”
They walked to the side of the bed. I felt Andrés’s presence. He didn’t smell like my husband anymore. He smelled like a stranger.
“Goodbye, Lucía,” he said. No emotion. Just a sign-off.
“Doctor,” Teresa called out. “We are ready to sign the directive. Disconnect her.”
I waited until I heard the pen scratch on the paper. I waited until the signature was complete. The legal seal of my death warrant.
Then, I opened my eyes.
I turned my head slowly and looked directly at Andrés.
His eyes went wide. His jaw unhinged. He dropped the clipboard. It clattered loudly on the floor.
“A-Andrés?” Teresa asked, annoyed. “What are you doing?”
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