Mariana felt as if a huge crack had opened in the floor, dragging her down to the depths, when she opened the door to her husband's office.

The girl with expressive green eyes, shoulder-length black hair, and moon-pale skin didn't know what to do or say, or believe what her eyes were showing.

On the wooden table in the man's living room, there was more than a small yellow plaque with the name "Maximilian Phillips". In fact, there was a beautiful girl, tall, with red hair tied up in a tight bun. She was wearing, or at least partly wearing, a black social outfit.

Holding the redhead, eager with desire, was Maximilian. The two kissed as if the rest of the world did not exist. They were so engrossed in each other that they didn't even hear the door being opened.

Mariana's lips trembled as the girl tried to contain her crying, screaming, panic and hatred; all the feelings that took over her blood, causing the fingers of her hands to spasm.

"Maximilian."

Immediately, both the businessman's secretary and himself disengage. Max buttons his shirt, desperate, but the redhead doesn't even try to disguise what has happened.

"My love," the man says, "What are you doing here? I thought you'd be home all day."

And she would. She would if she hadn't been feeling morning sickness for a week. She would stay if she wasn't finding the absence of her period strange. And she would stay if she hadn't taken a pregnancy test that very afternoon.

The test that was in her purse, with the crystal clear "positive" sign.

The test she would show her husband, beaming and smiling, since they would now have a family.

The red-haired woman looked at Mariana. Unlike Maximilian, she had an undisguised smile at the corner of her mouth, as if proud of having been caught. How long had they been tricking her like that?

"It's not what you're thinking," he speaks up, smoothing the fly of his pants. "Mariana, my love-"

"You lying bastard." Tears begin to fall down her pale face. "Bastard!"

"Wait, let's talk about this!"

The man with wheat-colored hair and dark eyes walks up to her, but Mariana takes a step back.

"Don't come near me!"

"Mariana-"

"How could you? How could you do this to me?"

The secretary remains in the same place, crossing her arms and fiddling with her hair right away. Max raises his hands in a soothing gesture:

"Love. Listen. This what you saw..." He bites his lips, trying to quickly craft an argument. "It was no big deal. Her? She's just a fling. A lapse. A mistake, understand?"

Shocked, the secretary frowns and immediately stands up:

"Maxmilian, is that really what I'm hearing?!"

"Quiet, Michelle!"

"I will not be quiet! How dare you? And even more so in front of me?"

Mariana is still standing in the same place, collapsing into silent tears, while the two argue:

"Don't you understand what's going on here?" Max squirms.

"Of course I am!" Michelle squirms back. "I'm watching a two-faced, lying scumbag who promised me he'd file for divorce by the end of the month say in front of me that I'm just a fling! What the hell is your problem?"

"Michelle, shut your mouth!"

Mariana stood there, still, not believing everything that was happening. She felt as if her world had collapsed in an instant, without any warning. The man she loved was standing there, being not only unmasked, but exposed by his own mistress. 

The woman knew that this was not a nightmare. If glimpsing the image of her and Max carrying their firstborn in their arms was like a dream, what was unfolding in front of her was a nightmare.
But she knew that nothing could change what she had just seen. The image of the redhead in her husband's arms was etched in her mind, like a painful scar. She felt betrayed, humiliated, and above all, deceived.

There was no turning back. There was no forgiveness. Everything she had believed until then, the words and statements of the businessman, were a lie. 

"Mariana, please forgive me. I love you," Maximilian said, trying to hold her hand.

"Don't touch me," she retorted, pulling away, "I don't want to hear your excuses. I don't want anything to do with you."

Maximilian seemed shocked by her response. He had not expected Mariana to leave him so easily.

Disconcerted, the man tries one more time:

"Hey. Take it easy. Let's talk, okay? Go to the house and talk to me there. I'll clear everything up, I-"

"No. It's over. I don't want anything more to do with you," she said, with tears in her eyes. "I'm leaving, right now."

Mariana grabbed her purse tightly and walked out the door, without looking back. She didn't know where she was going, but she knew she didn't want to be in that place anymore. She needed some time to herself, to try to understand what had happened and how to move on.

She would pack her bags. She would get another place, another house. And a job. Max had always wanted her to devote herself to the home, to not "be poisoned by the terrible corporate world." Now Mariana understood what he really needed - a docile, submissive wife who would not find out about his...adventures.

Questions swirled in her mind. How long had Max been cheating on her with his secretary? Was it just the redhead, or was there a legion of lovers waiting for him to leave the house every day?

As she walked down the street, snorting with hate and frustration, a drop of hope rose in her heart: her baby. Mariana was pregnant, and that was undeniable. She wasn't sure what she would do with this information yet, but she knew she didn't want Maximilian to know.

She walked on, aimlessly, letting the tears fall freely down her face. She didn't know what the future held for her, but she knew that she needed to find a new path. A path without Maximilian Phillips.

As she went to cross the street, weeping copiously, she tripped over her own feet.

And a stunned horn sounded nearby, along with the loud roar of an engine.

A car, at high speed, was speeding towards her... 

... And there was no time for the driver to stop.