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Natalia did not succumb to asthma, but to the invisible dagger of betrayal. Simão chose Isabela, the sister who had slandered her, and with a cruel gesture took away the one breath she needed. In the icy echo of “Let’s get a divorce!” Natalia realized that love had died and that freedom was her only inheritance.

She stood up, leaving behind a shattered past and a man who, sooner or later, would waste ninety-nine pleas into a void to which she would never return.

*~*~*

Natalia stared at the horrific scene unfolding before her eyes, unable to believe what she was seeing.

Isabella had slammed her nose against the wall, and a powerful stream of blood had gushed out, reaching the floor, just as Simón Cáceres walked into the room.

They’d had an argument, and Isabella, hearing Simón’s voice, decided to play the victim in front of him, as she always did.

“What the hell did you do?” he unleashed his rage on her, pinning her against the wall and gripping her neck. “You cruel, heartless woman. Did you hit her? Speak up now, damn it!”

His voice was chilling and sharp, making Natalia’s ears ring.

His gaze was even worse—it was filled with such deep hatred that it completely shattered her, making her tremble with fear.

“I had nothing to do with this!” she exclaimed, summoning her courage.

Isabella was his younger sister and Simón’s great love for years; Natalia was merely the stand-in wife, and he had hated her for that for a long time.

He believed Natalia had taken advantage of the situation and had locked Isabella in a hotel room on the wedding day to achieve her goal.

“Can’t you just accept your defeat? You know I never loved you!” he shouted angrily.

Minutes earlier, Simón had arrived at the mansion with his former lover and coldly asked her for a divorce. Natalia felt her world crumbling around her.

His words were like sharp darts piercing her chest. Why did she still expect him to believe her?

He never had before; after two years of a marriage of convenience and misunderstandings, he would never trust her again.

Simón approached Isabella in a condescending yet affectionate manner she had never seen him display toward her.

When her sister Isabella had decided not to show up for the wedding two years ago, Natalia’s heart had leapt with joy when she was told she had to marry Simón in her place.

Then, everything turned into chaos; that shameless Isabella had shown up that very night at the wedding reception, claiming that Natalia had kidnapped her alongside an accomplice who accused her on the spot.

Simón had hated her even more in that moment and swore he would make her life a living hell for as long as she lived.

“Simón… Simón…” Natalia called out to him, but he paid her not the slightest bit of attention—he never had, not until now.

He was fawning over that woman who had abandoned him at the altar years ago, using a deceptive ploy to pin the blame on Natalia and absolve himself of guilt.

“Enough, Isabella!” she said, fed up, a lump in her throat. “Stop pretending already.”

“What?!” Simón couldn’t believe his ears. “How can you be so cruel? Do you think the blood is fake? I demand an apology!”

“I didn’t even touch her!” Natalia defended herself.

“You’re lying!” Simón roared angrily.

Natalia closed her eyes tightly; her face was pale, and she could barely breathe. She suffered from asthma.

“I…” she hurriedly rummaged through her pocket, looking for her inhaler.

Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking, and she even struggled to handle it. However, the moment she opened it, someone snatched it away from her ruthlessly.

The canister fell to the floor with a loud crash.

Her body went limp and she fell heavily to the ground. She had to use her inhaler; she had almost no air left.

“Enough, Natalia! How much longer are you going to fake your illness?” he spat angrily. He was furious and kicked the inhaler away from Natalia’s trembling hand.

“Don’t hurt her, Simón,” she could barely make out Isabella’s sweet, soft voice. “She didn’t mean to do it; leave her alone.”

Natalia was in so much pain she groaned. She struggled to breathe, but the pain kept her lucid for some strange reason.

That’s how she came to realize just how cruel her beloved Simón was and how much contempt he felt for her. He crouched down and said coldly, grabbing her chin roughly:

“Wipe the bloodstains off the floor before I come back from cleaning up after Isa.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Simón turned around and walked away without looking at her again, comforting Isabella, who begged him in a trembling voice not to speak to her sister that way.

In those two years, he had never shown any concern for Natalia; he barely spoke to her and met only with indifference or mistreatment.

It was Natalia who insisted on marrying him, believing that one day he would fall in love with her, but she was terribly mistaken.

Simón was talking to someone about Isabella’s situation, deeply concerned. Meanwhile, Natalia was crawling on the floor, trying to grab her inhaler so she could breathe.

Suddenly the door burst open and Natalia could make out a silhouette in front of her; she could barely whisper a faint “help,” receiving a sharp reply:

“Let’s get a divorce!”