Every night, my brother’s new wife dragged her pillow into my room and insisted on sleeping in the middle of the bed, right between my husband and me. “I’m scared of the bad dreams,” she whispered.

By the time Lucía lifted her head beneath the heavy wool blanket, blocking that thin blade of light under the door, every trace of sleep left my body.

My heart hammered so hard I was sure the person outside could hear it.

I still did not understand what was happening in my own bedroom, but one thing became terrifyingly clear.
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