The next morning, sunlight floods Zayra's apartment, but it brings no warmth. Her body aches—not from lack of sleep, but from the weight of betrayal still pressing on her chest. She had managed to close her eyes for a few hours after crying herself to exhaustion, but her dreams betrayed her, too—taking her back to memories of Mark's laughter, his embrace, the night he first told her he loved her.
Now, it all feels like a lie.
Her phone buzzes. 15 unread messages. 8 missed calls. All from Mark.
She deletes them all without opening a single one.
Zayra: "You don't get to explain anymore."
Dragging herself out of bed, she heads to the bathroom and stares at her reflection. Puffy eyes. Pale lips. But behind the sadness—there's a flicker of something else. Determination.
She can't fall apart. Not for someone who broke her.
Later at the hospital…
Zayra walks through the corridor, her nurse's ID hanging firmly from her neck. Her back is straight, her uniform crisp, but her heart is heavier than the clipboard she's holding. She nods politely to fellow staff, keeping her mask of professionalism on. She knows the whispers will start soon—Mark, the golden boy, caught cheating. With another nurse. Word travels fast in hospital hallways.
As she approaches the nurse's station, Mila spots her.
Mila: (softly) "Zayra…"
Zayra tries to smile, but it's weak.
Zayra: "Hey. Let's focus on patient rounds, okay?"
Mila touches her arm gently.
Mila: "I didn't know. I swear. I would've told you."
Zayra nods. "I know. Let's just… do our job today. Please."
That afternoon, during a break, Zayra finds herself in the hospital garden, sitting on a bench beneath the acacia tree where she and Mark once had lunch. Back when he still made her laugh. Back when she believed in him.
A familiar voice pulls her from her thoughts.
Dr. Lissa Navarro: "Mind if I sit?"
She's one of the oldest residents—quiet, intelligent, and always respectful. They've worked together on a few cases. Zayra nods, gesturing to the spot beside her.
Dr. Lissa: "He's an idiot, you know."
Zayra chuckles bitterly. "Everyone knows already?"
Dr. Lissa: "The nurse he was with… bragged about it to the wrong person. It's all over the break room."
She sighs.
Zayra: "Great. Public humiliation, on top of heartbreak."
Dr. Lissa: (quietly) "You didn't deserve that. No one does."
Zayra: "Thank you. That means a lot."
They sit in silence for a few moments, the wind brushing gently past them.
Dr. Lissa: "If you ever need to talk, or scream into the void, I make a decent listener."
She smiles—this time, a little more genuine.
Zayra: "I'll keep that in mind."
That night, Zayra lies in bed, phone in hand. She scrolls past old photos of her and Mark, deleting them one by one—laughing selfies, hospital break room lunches.
Zayra thinks, He's just like my father. I trusted him, and he betrayed me. I thought he was different. I thought I could have a future with him.
Then she sees the birthday gift he gave her last year—a silver bracelet with a heart charm. She removes it from her wrist, places it in a box, and closes the lid.
Zayra says to herself, I will not let a man who betrayed me define my worth.
The next day…
Zayra walks into the hospital with her head held high. Her heart still aches, but there's strength in her steps now. As she passes Mark in the hallway—who stands frozen, regret in his eyes—she doesn't flinch.
She doesn't stop.
She just keeps walking forward.
She doesn't want to hear anything from Mark, because she doesn't care what the reason was. He still chose to cheat on her.
He chose it.
It wasn't a mistake.