Sebastian felt time fold back on itself as he took another step into the room, trying not to look too much at the blood staining the sheets.

The air was dense, heavy, as if every passing second was charged with a decision he didn’t yet understand, but which was already beginning to demand something from him in return.

—Valeria—he repeated, more quietly, as if raising his voice could shatter what little remained intact in that scene that was impossible to justify.

The curtain barely moved, as if a weak hand had tried to hold it up and then given up halfway through the effort.

Sebastian hesitated.

It wasn’t a long second.

But it was enough to make something inside him scream that crossing that space was going to change everything, in a way that he couldn’t undo.

I could call security.

I could go back.

He could pretend that he had never heard that voice on the other side of the wall, that he had never answered those knocks in the early morning.

But he didn’t.

She drew the curtain.

Valeria was on the floor, leaning against the wall, her face pale and her lips dry, breathing as if each inhalation were a negotiation with the pain.

The blood wasn’t coming from the bed.

It came from her.

From his side.

A deep cut, poorly covered with what looked like a towel that had been forcibly torn off.

“Don’t… call anyone,” she whispered, barely moving her lips, her eyes fixed on his, as if that request was the only thing keeping her conscious.

Sebastian felt a pang of disbelief.

“You’re losing too much blood,” he said, almost automatically, as if he suddenly remembered all the medical conversations he had ignored for years.

She barely denied it.

—If they call… they’ll know I’m here.

That “they” fell into the room like a shadow heavier than the storm that was battering the windows.

Sebastian looked towards the door.

There was nobody there.

But the feeling that someone could appear at any moment settled in his chest like an uncomfortable certainty.

“Who?” he asked.

Valeria closed her eyes for a second, as if gathering the strength to answer was more difficult than enduring the pain.

—I can’t explain everything… but I heard something last night… while we were talking to you.

Sebastian frowned.

—Did you hear what?

She opened her eyes, and for the first time since I had seen her, there was something more than pain in her gaze.

There was fear.

A deep one.

One that didn’t seem exaggerated.

—They’re using this hotel… to move things… people… I don’t really know… but I saw something I shouldn’t have seen.

Sebastian felt his head spinning.

Not because of history.

But not because of the way she said it.

There was no drama.

There was no exaggeration.

Just a harsh truth, spoken by someone who no longer had the energy to lie.

“And this?” he asked, pointing carefully at the cut. “Who did this to you?”

Valeria swallowed.

—I tried to leave… someone was in the hallway… I was pushed… I didn’t see their face.

Silence settled between them once more.

But it was no longer the same silence as in the early morning.

This one had weight.

It had consequences.

Sebastian ran a hand over his face.

He could feel two versions of himself beginning to clash.

The one who solved everything with calls, money, and protocols.

And she, for some incomprehensible reason, wanted to believe that woman she had met through a wall.

“You need a hospital,” he insisted, this time more firmly.

She stared at him.

—What if the hospital is also part of that?

The question hit him harder than he expected.

Because, for the first time in a long time, I didn’t have an immediate answer.

His world had always been predictable.

Controlled.

Safe.

But now, everything she knew seemed to be teetering in a blood-stained hotel room.

“I can’t leave you like this,” he finally said, more to convince himself than her.

Valeria took a deep breath, with difficulty.

—Then you’ll have to decide quickly… because I don’t think we have much time.

As if her words had been a signal, a sharp noise was heard in the hallway.

A blow.

Then steps.

Boards.

Firms.

Approaching.

Sebastian felt his heart racing.

Every instinct screamed at him that he had to leave.

That wasn’t his problem.

That getting involved could only make things worse.

But then he looked at Valeria.

And he remembered how he had hit the wall eight times during the night.

Not for attention.

But out of necessity.

And he understood something he hadn’t wanted to accept until that moment.

If he left now, he wasn’t just leaving her alone.

I was choosing to go back to being the person I ignored.

The one who looked away when something was too uncomfortable.

The footsteps stopped in front of the door.

A brief silence.

Then, a slight attempt to open.

The handle moved.

It was closed.

For now.

Sebastian took a deep breath.

And at that moment, she knew there was no right choice.

There was only one choice that was going to define who he really was.

I could open the door.

Deliver the situation.

To return to his orderly life, where everything had a price and a solution.

Or he could stay.

Believe him.

And to face something he didn’t fully understand, but which had already captivated him.

Valeria looked at him.

He said nothing.

He didn’t beg.

He just waited.

And that silence was stronger than any request.

Sebastian walked towards the door.

His steps were firm, but his mind was at war.

He put his hand on the handle.

On the other side, someone tried to open it again.

Stronger this time.

“Room service,” a voice said.

But something about the tone didn’t fit.

It was too flat.

Too calculated.

Sebastian closed his eyes for a second.

And he decided.

He turned the key.

But not to open.

To secure it.

Then he moved away from the door.

“I’m not going to let them in,” she said, in a low but firm voice.

Valeria released the breath she seemed to have been holding for hours.

The knocking on the door began.

First, gently.

Then they became insistent.

Sebastian looked around, searching for something useful, something that could give him a minimal advantage in a situation that clearly overwhelmed him.

But he found nothing that could give him back control.

Because control no longer existed.

All that was left was to move forward.

And to accept whatever came next.

And as the blows increased and the storm raged outside, Sebastian understood that, for the first time in years, he was doing something he couldn’t buy.

Something I couldn’t delegate.

Something that had no guarantee.

He was choosing to stay.

Even if it meant losing everything else.

The knocking on the door changed rhythm.

They were no longer insistent.

They were calculated.

As if those on the other side had understood that the resistance was not going to break with force, but with patience.

Sebastian took a step back, keeping his gaze fixed on the handle that vibrated slightly with each attempt.

His mind worked fast.

Too fast.

Options.

Routes.

Errors.

All of this was mixed with the irregular sound of Valeria’s breathing behind him.

“There’s a service exit,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “I saw it when I arrived… at the end of the hall.”

Sebastian denied it almost immediately.

—Not in your state.

She let out a small, bitter laugh.

—I can’t stay in my state either.

That phrase pierced him.

Because there was no drama in it.

Just an uncomfortable truth that left no room for illusions.

The blows suddenly stopped.

Silence.

Too much silence.

Sebastian felt how that emptiness was even worse.

Because it meant they were thinking.

Rethinking.

Looking for another way in.

He turned towards Valeria.

The blood continued to seep through the makeshift cloth, slower now, but constant.

“If we’re going to move, it has to be now,” he said.

She nodded, closing her eyes for a second to gather strength that she clearly no longer had.

Sebastian approached and helped her to her feet.

The contact was strange.

Not because of the proximity.

But because of its fragility.

Valeria weighed less than she expected.

As if part of her were already somewhere else, beyond the immediate pain.

“If I faint… don’t let go of me,” she whispered.

-I won’t do it.

And, for the first time in a long time, Sebastian wasn’t saying something out of politeness.

I was promising it.

They moved towards the door.

Every step was a risk.

Every sound, a possible warning.

Sebastian pressed his ear against the wood.

Nothing.

Not a single step.

Ni voces.

Only the storm, distant, as if it belonged to another world.

He turned the key carefully.

It just opened.

The hallway was empty.

But something had changed.

The service cart that used to be at the end was now closer.

Too close.

As if someone had moved it.

Sebastian felt a chill.

“They’re not far,” he murmured.

They left.

The door was left ajar behind them.

The hallway seemed longer than before.

Narrower.

More closely monitored, even though no one was visible.

They walked slowly, close to the wall.

Valeria leaned on him with all her weight.

Each step elicited a small exhalation of pain that he tried to suppress.

Halfway down the corridor, a sound froze them.

An elevator opening.

In the distance.

Sebastian did not hesitate.

-Fast.

They accelerated.

Or as quickly as they could.

The service cart was a few meters away.

And when they caught up with him, Sebastian saw him.

A telephone.

Not from the hotel.

A small one.

Negro.

Hidden among the towels.

Valeria looked at him too.

Her eyes opened with something close to recognition.

“It belongs to them,” he whispered. “They use it to coordinate.”

Sebastian hesitated.

Taking it meant getting more involved.

Leaving it behind meant ignoring a key piece.

Another decision.

Another crack.

He extended his hand.

He took it.

And at that very moment, the phone vibrated.

They both remained motionless.

The screen lit up.

A message.

A single line.

“Room 2318. Please confirm.”

Sebastian felt the air getting colder.

That was the room.

Valeria’s.

The one about blood.

“You know,” she murmured.

There was no panic in her voice.

Just a weary certainty.

As if he had been waiting for that moment ever since he started talking.

Sebastian put the phone in his pocket.

—Then we have to disappear before they confirm it.

They continued advancing.

The end of the corridor was near.

The service door.

A dim light filtering in from below.

But just as they were a few steps away, a voice sounded behind them.

-Mister.

Sebastian stopped.

He didn’t turn immediately.

He felt Valeria tense her body beside him.

“She forgot to lock her room,” the voice continued, calm, almost kind.

Too nice.

Sebastian turned slowly.

A man in a hotel uniform was standing a few meters away.

Smiling.

But her eyes were not smiling.

They were looking directly at Valeria.

As if she were the only important point in the entire hallway.

—Thank you —replied Sebastian, maintaining his neutral tone—. We were just leaving.

The man bowed his head slightly.

-I know.

A second of silence.

Heavy.

Denso.

Irreversible.

Sebastian felt all the pieces suddenly fall into place.

The cart.

The telephone.

The door.

It was no coincidence.

Nothing was.

“She needs help,” Sebastian said, slightly changing his position, placing himself just in front of Valeria.

The man took a step forward.

-Of course.

Another step.

—We can take care of it.

Valeria squeezed Sebastian’s hand with unexpected force.

A small gesture.

But full of meaning.

No.

Don’t trust.

Do not give in.

That was the moment.

The exact point where everything broke down or was defined.

Sebastian could hand it over.

To say that he knew nothing.

Return to her life.

To be saved.

Or I could hold that hand.

And accept all that it entailed.

The man was now close enough to see the blood clearly.

Her smile didn’t change.

But there was something about his stance.

More tense.

More decisive.

Sebastian took a deep breath.

And he made the decision that was irreversible.

—No —he said.

One word.

But firm.

Definitive.

The man stopped smiling.

The hallway fell silent again.

And at that moment, Sebastian understood that there was no longer any possibility of negotiation.

Just a consequence.

And that, whatever happened next, he was no longer the same man who had heard those first three knocks on the wall.