The moment Rosa and I stepped back into my room, my thoughts swirled like a tempest.
The conversation with Adrian replayed in my mind on a loop, each detail gnawing at me. His tone, his words, his expressions—all of it left a bitter taste in my mouth.
Rosa shut the door quietly, and I began pacing the length of the room, my hands clenched into fists.
"I can't believe him," I muttered, more to myself than to Rosa. "The way he looked at me when I mentioned my sister... it was off."
Rosa sank onto the edge of the bed, her brows furrowed in concern.
"Are you sure, Maria? What exactly did he say—or not say—that makes you so certain he's lying?"
I stopped pacing, turning to face her.
"It's not just what he said, Rosa. It's how he said it. When I brought up my sister, there was this... hesitation in his voice, like he wasn't expecting me to ask about her. And then he tried to brush it off, as if it wasn't important."
