Lahat ng Kabanata ng My dad's bestfriend: Kabanata 51 - Kabanata 60

The trail wound through the coastal hills like a sinuous vein, a dark, living gash in the golden flesh of the earth, bordered by pines twisted by the sea wind, their trunks tanned and bare on the ocean side like old men who had turned their backs on the swell to survive. There were eucalyptus bushes too, their long, pale leaves rustling in the warm afternoon breeze with a sound like crumpled silk, releasing that camphor-like, almost medicinal scent that went to the head like a mild alcohol. The whole air was steeped in it a peppery resin mixed with the distant iodine of the ocean shimmering below, visible intermittently through irregular gaps in the vegetation, scraps of liquid light between the dark trunks. The trail itself was an ancient beast, carved by decades of rain and passage, a ribbon of ochre earth mixed with sand from the beaches below, dotted with pebbles polished by time and knotted roots that surfaced like veins on the back of a hand. And there was the heat. That heavy h

Pedro was sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of black coffee in front of him.It wasn't a coffee he was drinking. It was a coffee he was staring at, that he'd been staring at for long minutes, elbows resting on the years-worn oilcloth, chin in one hand. The cup was thick earthenware, an unpretentious model bought in a discount store years ago, and the dark liquid it held had long since lost its steam, forming a thin, almost imperceptible skin on its surface. Pedro stirred the spoon mechanically, creating small whirlpools that dragged that skin into a circular dance, before falling still again. His eyes followed the movement without really seeing it, lost in that inner void where thoughts circle like caged beasts.The house was quiet. Too quiet. It wasn't the soothing calm of ordinary mornings, the ones where you take your time, savoring the first sip while listening to the birds outside. It was a heavy, charged silence, like the moment before a storm, when the air becomes still and t

It was an ultimatum. He knew it. She knew it. For three long seconds, he thought she'd hang up, send a message later, or just show up with the guy anyway, counting on the element of surprise to impose her will. But Maria had never been very brave in direct confrontation."Okay," she finally said. Her voice was tired, resigned. "I'll come alone."Pedro closed his eyes. He felt his throat tighten that familiar knot that returned every time he thought of her, of them, of everything that had been destroyed."Okay."He hung up without waiting for her response. The phone fell back onto the table with a dull thud, bounced once on the oilcloth, then went still. Pedro stayed there, hands trembling, heart beating too fast, too hard. He felt as if he'd just been drained of all his energy, as if he'd been put through a washing machine, wrung out, twisted. The call had revived everything. Not just the memories, but the physical sensations that knot in his stomach, that tightness in his chest, that

Sofia had watched them from the landing, hidden in the shadow of her half-open door, a narrow slit through which she could see without being seen. She knew it was unhealthy, this curiosity, this almost morbid fascination with the woman who had hurt Pedro so deeply. But she couldn't help it. She needed to see. To understand.Maria was beautiful. Not a magazine beauty, but something more subtle a charisma, a presence, a way of occupying space without effort. Her gestures were slow, measured, economical, but each of them seemed calculated to draw the eye. When she'd passed through the bedroom door, she'd turned for a second, and her gaze had swept the hallway. Sofia had held her breath, certain she'd been discovered. But Maria had seen nothing. She'd smiled at Marco, closed the door, and Sofia had stayed there, heart pounding, wondering why she was hiding like a thief.And Marco? An intruder. A living reminder of the betrayal that had broken this family. Every time he touched Maria, ever

The terrace door clicked softly behind Pedro, a sharp sound that echoed in the silence of the night. Sofia sat frozen at the table for a few seconds, her heart still pounding from the tense dinner that had just ended. Maria and her boyfriend had gone up to bed, Javier had pleaded sudden fatigue, and Ellie had gone to his room without a word. The atmosphere was heavy, charged with unspoken words and old reopened wounds. But when Pedro had announced he was going to get some air on the beach, something in Sofia had stirred. She couldn't leave him alone. Not like this.She stood quietly, grabbed a light cardigan from the back of a chair, and went out after him. The night air was cool, heavy with sea moisture and the scent of bougainvillea climbing the facade. The moon was almost full, casting a silvery light on the sandy path leading to the beach. She spotted Pedro's silhouette a little further down, hands in his pockets, walking with heavy steps toward the shore.She followed him, her sa