Joaquín, torn between loyalty and temptation, begins to explain his feelings. “Gema has sacrificed so much for me,” he admits. “I’m deeply grateful to her, but a marriage should be built on more than gratitude.” Miriam, seeking clarity, asks him directly, “Are you in love with her?” Joaquín hesitates before responding, “In love… maybe that’s not the right word. But I care for her deeply, and she doesn’t deserve to be hurt. And neither do you.”
Miriam interrupts him, her voice firm. “Don’t speak for me, Joaquín. If I’ve proposed this, it’s because I’m willing to adapt, to make it work.” But Joaquín, pained, shakes his head. “Miriam, sooner or later, you’d grow tired of this situation.” Miriam insists, “No, I wouldn’t.” Joaquín presses on, “Imagine not being able to spend my birthday together, or Christmas. Not even being able to walk down the street holding hands. We’d be together, but always hidden.”
Miriam counters, “But at least we’d be together.” Joaquín looks at her with sadness. “Not like this. We don’t deserve for our love to wither away in a second-rate hotel room.” The weight of his words hangs heavy in the air. “It’s better if we end this now,” Joaquín concludes, “while we can still look back on what we shared with fondness.”
Miriam’s eyes fill with tears. “I don’t know how I’ll move on from this,” she whispers. “I’ll search for you in every man I meet.” Joaquín, his voice breaking, replies, “Until you find someone who can make you as happy as you deserve.” As she begins to cry, Joaquín softly reassures her, “Don’t cry. If you ever need anything, I’ll be here.” And with that, he walks away, leaving Miriam to wrestle with a love that can never be.
