







My name is Lucía Morales , and for almost three years I believed my relationship with Javier Roldán was imperfect, but salvageable. We lived together in a small apartment…

I have often wondered if a marriage dies in a single, catastrophic moment, like a car crash, or if it erodes slowly, like a coastline…

I never imagined that hell would have the voice of a mother-in-law and the fists of the man who promised to love me. That afternoon,…

Twelve-year-old Emily Carter sat alone in the third row of the Lincoln Ridge Middle School auditorium, her small hands folded tightly in her lap. The banner above…

The scent of funeral lilies is a specific kind of suffocation. It is a cloying, heavy sweetness that coats the back of your throat, tasting…

My son struck me last night, and I said nothing. I did not scream. I did not cry out. I did not raise my voice…

When I arrived at the acreage that Saturday morning, guiding my old sedan down the gravel path, a knot of uneasiness tightened in my stomach.…

My name is Lucía Martínez , I’m thirty-eight years old, and for twelve years I thought I had a normal marriage with Javier Ortega . Not perfect, but stable.…

I was alone in the bedroom, sitting on the rug, trying on my wedding shoes in front of the mirror. The dress still hung in…

I am thirty-four years old, and for the last eighteen years, my life has been defined by a singular, overwhelming equation: it is just me…











