XIMENA
“Know what?” I procrastinate, imagining the worst but hoping it's something else or a joke.
“Let's talk straight, please, Ximena,” he says, raising his voice. “Let's cut the bullshit.”
“So talk,” I tell her dryly, adjusting the garter belt that squeezes me.
“How long have you known you were my fictitious wife, my wife of lies?” I feel the floor shudder; it's as if my stomach were being ripped out to my legs and as if I were vomiting a blow of pain. I even have an ache throbbing in my head.
“Firstly, I'm not your fake wife; the wedding took place legally; that you didn't fulfill your part because of something I don't understand is another thing; and besides, you're the one who has been playing with me all this time; you knew it; your shoddy lawyer showed me all my information.”