And with the money, something else crept into his chest: a silent shame.
His new friends talked about status, restaurants in Providencia, parties where glasses sparkled and laughter was a competition. Gerardo began to notice things about Caridad that he hadn’t seen before… or that he had previously found beautiful.
Caridad continued to dress simply. She didn’t wear “financial” colors. She walked normally, not with the swaying gait of women trained to take up minimal space. She laughed loudly. She spoke the truth without embellishment.
Gerardo began to feel angry at that honesty.
When there were meetings, he would make up excuses.
—It’s all work, my love. Only men go.
—It’s dinner with clients. You won’t be bored.
Caridad nodded, though something was beginning to crack inside her. He arrived later, spoke less, and got irritated by everything.
“Are you going out like that?” he blurted out once, looking at her flat shoes. “You look… I don’t know, like you’re from the countryside.”
Caridad swallowed and smiled sadly.
—Sorry. I’m changing.
If she tried to fix herself up, he would laugh.
—Don’t pretend, Caridad. You’re not like that.
And so, the house gradually filled with an eerie silence. Caridad noticed everything, but said little. She believed in patience. She truly believed that love could redeem a man.
Her friend Laura wasn’t like that. Laura had a small boutique and a sharp tongue.
One afternoon, while they were folding clothes, Laura blurted out:
“Your husband is ashamed of you. A man who loves you shows you off, Caridad. This is breaking you. Leave before it destroys you.”
Caridad shook her head slowly, her eyes moist.
