I woke up being shaken by Isabela.
Seeing her alarmed face, I sprang from the cushion and scanned the surroundings.
It was still night. The lamp on the table remained the brightest thing in the room. Through the gaps in the window, I saw only darkness.
There was no one else but the two of us.
"What's wrong, hija?" I focused on her. She looked freshly woken but neither sick nor in pain.
"It's Vicente… he's knocking outside," she told me.
I furrowed my brow. I remembered how she was blushing last night.
My still-groggy mind immediately conjured a theory. What if something had happened between them in my room—something that happened nightly—and Vicente had simply forgotten I had returned, demanding entrance to continue it?
But my indignation lasted only a moment. What I heard next filled me with terrible shame for ever doubting the two of them.
"Heneral!" Vicente knocked again, clearly looking for me.
"What is it, and why couldn't it wait until morning?" I called out.
