The nights in Santa María women's prison were always longer than the days. Time crawled, each second dripping like water from a broken faucet, echoing through the emptiness of her heart.
Ana Santiago sat on her thin mattress, arms wrapped around her knees, staring at the flickering bulb above. It hummed faintly, sometimes going dark for a heartbeat before buzzing back to life.
She hated nights the most. Daytime brought noise, chatter, the occasional laugh or curse that distracted her from the ache inside. But at night, when silence took over, her thoughts became her tormentors.
Tonight was worse than usual. She couldn't stop thinking about Alejandro.
Had he forgotten her already? Weeks had passed without a visit, without a letter, without even a whisper of his presence.
The last time she had seen him, behind the cold glass of the visitation booth, he had promised he would fight for her. His voice had cracked as he swore she wasn't alone, that he'd find a way to free her. She had held onto those words like a lifeline.
But lifelines fray when they aren't reinforced.
She buried her face in her hands, whispering his name as if the walls could carry her voice beyond these bars. Alejandro.
Beside her, Angel was asleep, her breathing slow and steady. She always managed to sleep, no matter the weight of her past. Ana envied that strength.
Angel had scars not just physical, but etched deep in her spirit yet she moved with a certainty Ana couldn't grasp.
Ana had tried to close her eyes, but sleep refused to come. She was waiting. Hoping. Dreading.
Because tonight, Lucia was supposed to return.
She had done something reckless, maybe even unforgivable, she had given Lucia the address of Alejandro's father's house, begging her to spy, to see if he was there.
Lucia had only smirked, leaning against the cold bars when Ana whispered her plea days ago.
"You want me to find your husband?" she'd teased.
Ana's voice was shaken, desperate. "Not find. Just… just see. Tell me if he's with his father. Tell me if he's…" She couldn't finish the thought.
Lucia had tilted her head, eyes sharp like a cat's in the dark. "Careful, Santiago. Truth isn't always the salvation you think it is. Sometimes it's poison."
Ana hadn't cared then. But tonight, as she waited in the suffocating silence, doubt gnawed at her. What if Lucia betrayed her? What if she sold her secrets to someone else? What if she used this to hurt Alejandro, to hurt her?
The clang of a distant gate snapped her out of her spiraling thoughts. Footsteps echoed down the corridor light, deliberate, not like the heavy boots of guards. Ana's pulse quickened. She sat up straighter, listening.
A shadow slipped across the barred window of her cell. Then two soft taps against the door.
Ana's breath caught.
"Open up," whispered a familiar voice.
Lucia.
The door creaked, and within seconds, she slipped inside like smoke. Her hair was slightly wind-tossed, her cheeks flushed from the night air. She looked alive in a way no prisoner should be too confident, too free.
"Well, well," Lucia whispered, brushing dust off her jeans. "Miss Santiago, you owe me big time."
Ana shot to her feet, grabbing her arm. "You went?"
Lucia grinned, leaning lazily against the wall. "Of course I went. You gave me the address, didn't you?"
"Tell me," Ana pleaded, her voice trembling. "What did you see?"
Lucia tilted her head, savoring the moment like a cat toying with its prey. "Patience, darling. Let's just say your instincts? Dead on. He was there. Alejandro. At his father's house."
Relief surged in Ana's chest but it was laced with dread. "And?"
"And," Lucia continued, reaching into her jacket pocket, "he wasn't alone."
Ana's breath hitched.
Lucia pulled out a small, sleek object. The dim light caught its surface.
Ana staggered. "You… you have a phone?"
Lucia's smirk widened. "What, surprised? This place isn't as tight as you think. The right people get the right privileges."
She swiped the screen and held it out. "Watch."
Ana leaned closer, her heartbeat hammering. A shaky video played, grainy but clear enough. The porch of Alejandro's father's house glowed under yellow light. The door opened. Out stepped a petite, slim figure, her dark hair cascading over a silk blouse.
Isabella.
Ana's knees nearly gave out. She clutched the edge of the bed, staring as Isabella glanced around, then walked briskly toward a car. The camera caught her smug posture, the ease of someone who felt she belonged there.
Lucia's voice was soft but sharp. "I saw her myself. Isabella came out of the house like she owned it. And Alejandro? He didn't follow her out."
Ana pressed her hand against her mouth, fighting back tears. "No… no, that can't be true. He wouldn't. Alejandro wouldn't do that to me."
Lucia slid the phone back into her pocket, folding her arms. "Believe what you want, Santiago. But the closer you get to me, the more truths you'll uncover. And trust me, you're not ready for all of them."
Ana turned to her, voice breaking. "Why do you have that phone? How do you even keep it here without the guards knowing?"
Lucia shrugged, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Secrets. That's how I survive. And maybe, if you stay close to me, it's how you'll survive too."
The silence stretched. Angel stirred on the other bed, rolling over with a faint sigh, but didn't wake.
Ana pressed her forehead against the cold bars, tears slipping freely now. The video burned into her mind Isabella leaving, Alejandro nowhere in sight. The betrayal clawed at her chest, yet a part of her still clung to hope.
Maybe he was inside helping his father. Maybe it wasn't what it looked like.
But doubt was cruel, whispering relentlessly: He hasn't visited. He's moved on. He chose her.
Her voice cracked as she whispered into the darkness. "Alejandro… please, don't let this be true."
Lucia stretched out on her bed, smirking faintly. "Careful, Santiago. Sometimes the truth hurts more than the lies."
Ana sank back onto her mattress, trembling. She wiped her face, but the tears kept falling.
Angel stirred again, this time her eyes opening slightly. She studied Ana's hunched figure, the tension in her shoulders, the way her hands shook. She didn't say anything, but Ana felt the weight of her gaze.
Ana turned her back, curling into herself, keeping the storm inside where no one else could see. But she knew tomorrow, Angel would ask questions. And she didn't know if she had the strength to answer.
Tonight, Ana lay awake until dawn, haunted not just by what she had seen, but by the deeper fear that the world she thought she knew was crumbling and she no longer knew who she could trust.