I thought maybe she was being too thorough. Young women take care of themselves. But over time, I began to notice strange things. When she came out, her hair was wet, but there was no steam in the bathroom. Her clothes always looked freshly folded, as if they had been done before. And the strangest thing: her perfume. It wasn’t the soft floral scent she wore during the day. It was a stronger one… with a masculine touch.
That’s when I, Doña Carmen, her mother-in-law, began to get seriously suspicious.
From that night on, I began to watch her closely. I noted the time she came in—almost always at 8 p.m. I would check again at 9 a.m., sometimes at 9:30 a.m. She was still inside. She never locked her room, only the bathroom from the inside.
One night, while cleaning the living room, I noticed a wet wipe in the trash can. It wasn’t the brand we used. I took it out of curiosity—it was for men’s use, with a strong minty scent.
That’s when a bad feeling came over me.
“Is there a man entering the house? Or… does he already live here?”