For five long years, I spent more time by my wife’s hospital bedside than I had at my own. I spoon-fed her, changed her bandages, wiped every drop of sweat from her body.
People called me stupid, but I believed in the sacred bond of marriage. Until one afternoon—I forgot my purse at home and came home earlier than usual. The moment I opened the door to our room… I froze. The world I had protected for years crumbled in a single heartbeat.
Esteban, a man in his thirties, had a slim but strong build and a face that looked older than his years.
He lived with his wife, Sofía, in a modest, one-story house on the outskirts of Guadalajara.
They were both elementary school teachers, leading a quiet and simple life—they weren’t rich, but they were content.
Their love story was something many around them admired.
