Voices of Sin 3

A week. Seven torturous days have passed since I caught that treacherous scent in our bedroom. Suspicion had become a constant companion, a shadow clinging to every thought. I decided then to organize a gathering here, at our house, under the guise of bringing our closest friends together. A celebration of life, of friendship, or at least that's what it would be for everyone else.

The house was filled with laughter, soft music wafting from the speakers, and the constant murmur of conversations. I had prepared every detail with a precision that only distrust and pain could inspire. Ana was here, with her husband Carlos, and every glance she exchanged with Sebastián burned me from the inside. I watched them, monitored every move, every look that seemed to linger just a second too long.

The tension within me was palpable, a knot tightening every time I saw Ana laugh or when Sebastián leaned too close to pour her a drink. My heart pounded not just from the party, but from the constant surveillance. Each passing second, my mind replayed that night, the scent that had permeated the air, Ana's perfume that had become a ghost haunting our home.

The guests moved between the living room and the garden, oblivious to the emotional storm raging inside me. I kept a smile on my face, but my eyes were those of a hawk, alert to every detail. When I saw Ana slip away down the hallway, my pulse quickened. Moments later, Sebastián also disappeared, and the knot in my stomach turned into a painful certainty.

I knew where they were headed. The study, the room Sebastián always claimed was his refuge, but which I now knew was the stage for our betrayal. I moved stealthily, following the path they had taken, each step laden with a mix of fear and determination. The music and laughter of the guests faded as I approached, leaving only the sound of my own breathing, too loud in the quiet of the hallway.

I stopped in front of the study door. The sounds of movement, of clothes being manipulated, of quick breaths reached me through the wood. Each sound was like a dagger straight to my soul, confirming what my heart already knew but refused to accept. The betrayal materialized in every moan, in every heavy breath that reached my ears from the other side of the door.

A feeling of suffocation enveloped me, unsure if it was from pain or contained rage. But there was something stronger than the pain, something that pushed me to confront the truth. I wasn't going to run away; I wasn't going to let my life crumble without me taking control, even if it was control over my own destruction. I moved closer to the door, my heart beating with a mix of anticipation and dread, ready to face the inevitable.

The sound of their bodies, their desire, infiltrated my ears like poison, each moan, each sigh, a confirmation of the betrayal I could no longer deny. My breath hitched, not for lack of air, but under the weight of reality crushing me. I felt a mix of emotions so intense they seemed to want to tear me apart; pain, anger, a sense of loss so deep it made me stagger.

I leaned against the hallway wall, trying to steady myself, but every sound from the study echoed my own failure, my blindness. My hands trembled, unsure if from fury or fear of what I was about to discover. The thought that Sebastián, my husband, was at this moment with another woman, with Ana, was an image etched in my mind with painful clarity.

I decided then that I couldn't stay there, paralyzed by anguish. Each noise from beyond the door pushed me, incited me to act. It wasn't just the desire to confront them that moved me, but a visceral need to see with my own eyes what my heart already knew. I wanted, needed to see the truth, even though each second of waiting was torture.

I moved closer to the door, the wood now not just a physical barrier, but the last veil between my life as I knew it and devastation. My hand rested on the doorknob, but I didn't turn it, not yet. I listened more, each sound further proof of their deceit. Their voices, in the midst of their passion, intertwined with an intimacy that should have been ours alone. I felt a wave of nausea rise in my throat, but I pushed it down, determined not to show weakness.

Finally, driven by a mix of courage and desperation, I decided I had heard enough. With a deliberate movement, I adjusted my stance, took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm within. I didn't know what I would do once I opened that door, but I knew I had to do it. I couldn't let fear of confrontation paralyze me now, not when everything I had built with Sebastián was crumbling before my eyes.

My fingers closed around the doorknob, and I turned it slowly, the click of the mechanism like a shot in the silence created by my own fear. The door opened just a crack, but it was enough. I didn't need to see more to confirm what I already knew, but the need to see, to face the reality, compelled me to open the door wider.

And there, in the dim light of the study, the scene unfolded before me: Sebastián and Ana, in an embrace that was ours alone, now shared with her. The pain mixed with an incandescent rage, but also with a cold resolution. I decided then that I was not just going to witness this betrayal, I was going to document it. I was going to make them confront their actions, not just before me, but before everyone involved.

Through the small crack in the door, the world narrowed down to a living tableau of betrayal. The dim light of the study bathed Sebastián and Ana in a golden hue, as if their sin was something worthy of illumination. Every detail seared itself into my retinas with a clarity that burned.

Ana was kneeling before Sebastián, her mouth wrapped around him with a devotion that should have been mine alone. Her movements were rhythmic, assured, as if she knew every inch of his body better than I did. The sight of her head moving, her hair cascading over her bare back, scorched me from within. The vision of him, my husband, enjoying this forbidden pleasure, with his head thrown back and eyes closed in ecstasy, was a direct stab to the heart.

I felt the pain turn into a knot in my stomach, but I couldn’t look away. My hand, trembling, found my phone in my pocket. With a cold resolve, I began to record, capturing every second of their betrayal. The camera focused, and each image was a testament to their deceit.

I listened to Sebastián as I recorded, his voice, which should have been a whisper of love for me, now saying, "No one will discover us here, no one will ever know." Each word was an insult to our life together, every broken promise echoing in my ears like a reminder of my failure.

The scene grew more intense as Sebastián lifted Ana, their bodies joining in an act I knew all too well, but which now felt like a desecration. He penetrated her with an urgency he hadn't shown me in years, his rhythm steady and deep. Watching him enter her, seeing her body react, hearing her moans of pleasure I hadn’t heard in a long time, filled me with a mix of fury and devastation.

The sexual act before my eyes was not just physical; it was a dance of emotions, lies, and stolen desire. I watched as Ana clung to him, her moans growing in intensity, as Sebastián kissed her with a passion I believed was reserved only for us. My heart was tearing with each thrust, with each shared sigh between them.

The physical pain I felt was a reflection of my emotional state. My chest tightened, my vision blurred with tears I fought not to shed, but my hand kept the phone steady, recording without pause. I wanted every moan, every movement, to be recorded as evidence of their deceit, as an indelible mark of what I had lost.

Finally, I couldn't bear it anymore. The betrayal was too visceral, too real. I stopped the recording, my mind a whirlwind of emotions. It felt as though every part of me had been violated by the image of them together. I withdrew from the door silently, my body trembling not just with rage, but also with the pain of a wound I knew would never fully heal.

I decided to leave them in their world of falsehoods, at least for now. The party continued outside, oblivious to the drama unfolding in the study. But I was no longer part of that celebration; I was immersed in my own hell, planning every step of my revenge.

The party deflated slowly, like a balloon losing its air, and the last of the guests began to say their goodbyes. Ana and Sebastián had reappeared among the crowd, their faces marked by the effort to appear carefree, as if they hadn't shared something so intimate and destructive just moments before. I watched them reintegrate into the party, their guilt camouflaged under forced smiles and trivial conversation.

Once the last door closed behind the guests, the silence of the house became oppressive, an echo of the laughter and chatter that was no longer there. I stood watching Sebastián, his figure now a shadow of what he had been to me. Without saying a word, I pulled out my phone, and with a precision that only fury could provide, I sent the video to Carlos. Each second while the file uploaded was an eternity of bitter victory.

Then, I confronted Sebastián. The confrontation was inevitable, like a storm that had been gathering its strength on the horizon. "Sebastián, do you think you can keep pretending after this?" I said, raising my phone with the video already sent. His eyes met mine, and in them, I saw a flash of panic before the video started playing on the screen.

The scene of his betrayal with Ana unfolded before us, each moan, each movement, a confirmation of my worst nightmare. There were no more possible denials. His face crumbled, the mask of normalcy fell away, revealing the raw, painful truth. "María, I..." he tried to speak, but the words choked him.

"No, no more excuses," I interrupted, my voice trembling with a mix of rage and pain. "I've seen enough."

As he tried to process what was happening, I watched his hands shake, reaching for his phone. I observed him with a penetrating stare, each of his movements an additional betrayal. "Texting her, right?" I threw the accusation like a dart straight to his heart. His silence was confirmation enough.

"Yes," he finally confessed, his voice barely a whisper of defeat. "But María, it's not what..."

"I don't want to hear it," I cut him off, feeling each of his words as a new cut to my already wounded heart. "Get out of my sight. Get out of this house."

The decision was made. I went to his room, pulling out his suitcases with a determination that only betrayal could give. I packed his things, not with care, but with fury, each item a symbol of what I had lost. I pushed him towards the door, suitcases in hand, his face a mask of regret and desperation.

"María, please, don't do this," he pleaded, but my decision was unbreakable. I watched him step out onto the street, the night enveloping him in its darkness, his suitcases at his feet like a symbol of his exile from our life together.

Just then, the sound of a car approaching broke the night's silence. I looked towards the street and saw Ana's vehicle approaching. My heart skipped a beat, not with hope, but with bitter certainty. I thought she had come for him, to pick up the pieces of what they had done together. But what would come next would be far more than the end of a marriage.

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