“Tell me you’re not thinking what I am,” I whispered.

She sighed.

“I don’t know exactly what’s going on… but it’s not healthy. And you can’t stay there without answers.”

I went home determined.

No accusations.

No drama.

Just the truth.

But when I arrived, Elena was alone.

“Mateo’s at work,” she said calmly.

“Good,” I replied.

She looked at me, unsurprised.

“What did you see last night?”

Her coldness stunned me.

“Enough,” I said.

“Not enough,” she replied.

My voice shook. “Then explain. What kind of relationship do you have with your son?”

She held my gaze.

“The kind that destroys lives… without anyone noticing.”

I frowned.

Then she said quietly:

“Mateo wasn’t always like this. I made him this way.”

And just then, the front door opened.

PART 2 – Paraphrased

Mateo walked in, soaked from the rain, clearly too late to stop what had already begun.

“Did you tell her?” he asked his mother.

“Just about to,” she said.

He looked exhausted.

“Sit down, Camila.”

“I don’t want to sit. I want answers.”

Elena began speaking.

After Mateo’s father died when he was fourteen, he found the body. The trauma shattered him—nightmares, panic attacks, fear.

She tried everything—doctors, therapists—but she was broken too.