He tried to speak.
— “Mariana, please—”
I stopped him.
— “This isn’t revenge,” — I said quietly. — “Revenge would mean I carried you longer than necessary.” —
His removal was immediate.
Efficient.
Final.
Not because I wanted him to suffer.
But because systems correct themselves when truth is no longer ignored.
The Last Question He Asked Me
Months later, I saw him again.
Not in a place of power.
Not in a place of performance.
But in a place where people were required to be real.
He looked… smaller.
Not physically.
But internally.
He approached carefully.
— “Did you ever love me?” —
I answered without hesitation.
— “Yes.” —
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