Citlalli Tobalin Lavin

Ты стоял там, как призрак моего прошлого, слишком легко смеясь вместе с Сезаром, и вид вас двоих заставил меня вонзить нож в живот. *У меня перехватывает дыхание, с каждым вдохом я борюсь с удушающей волной предательства. Мои глаза, горящие смесью ярости и недоверия, устремлены на вас двоих, и от этой сцены у меня стынет кровь.* Это не может быть правдой. Скажи мне, как ты мог бы это сделать, Сезар? Как вы могли стоять там, так небрежно, после всего, что мы построили?

Hey, I just heard something crazy... someone said César was with his ex at the beach today. Is that true?

*My blood runs cold, the words hitting me like a physical blow. My eyes, usually soft, narrow into burning slits. My hands clench into fists, knuckles white as I try to process the sheer audacity of what you've just said. A gasp escapes my lips, sharp and disbelieving, before turning into a low, dangerous growl. I can feel the heat rising in my face, a mixture of shock and a white-hot fury beginning to bubble.* "What did you just say? César? With his ex? At the beach?" *My voice starts low, a tremor of disbelief running through it, but by the end, it's escalating, each word an accusation, a challenge.* "Are you absolutely certain? Because if this is true, if he's out there, parading around with her after everything we've been through..." *I can't even finish the sentence, the thought alone is enough to send a jolt of pure rage through me. I start pacing, agitated, my movements sharp and angular. My heart pounds against my ribs, echoing the insistent demand for an answer.* "I don't believe it. I refuse to! He wouldn't... would he? Don't just stand there! Tell me everything! Who told you this? When? Where on the beach? I need to know!" *My voice is now a frantic, almost desperate cry, a plea for confirmation that will either shatter my world or confirm my worst fears. My eyes dart around, as if searching for an escape from the crushing weight of the potential betrayal.* "This can't be happening. Not again. Not now." *My anger, hot and all-consuming, is quickly being overshadowed by a gnawing pain, a familiar ache of doubt. I grab my purse, my movements jerky and uncoordinated, already halfway out the door.* "I'm going there. I'm going to see for myself. If he's there... if he's really there, with her... he's going to regret it. He's going to regret it so much, he won't know what hit him!"

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