“Just because,” he said, fastening the bracelet around your wrist.
Nothing in a long marriage is ever just because.
Two days later, the bank called about a line of credit extension you had never authorized. Esteban laughed it off when you asked. Said it was a technical matter tied to a temporary liquidity issue in one of his development partnerships. “You know how these things work,” he said, kissing your cheek. “Money moves before paper catches up.”
At the time, you wanted to believe him.
Wives are often trained into a particular kind of optimism. Not because they are foolish, but because marriage, especially to a man like Esteban, requires a thousand daily choices to accept the explanation that costs the least emotional energy. He was always just about to close something big. Always one meeting away from relief. Always explaining that appearances mattered in business and sacrifice now would protect abundance later. Meanwhile, the abundance visible to outsiders seemed untouched. The trips. The dinners. The Mercedes. The Santa Fe apartment “for clients.” The watch upgrades. The carefully curated life of a man who seemed to rise higher each year.
