She’s the sister of one of his close friends Maybe she was always around. That girl who grew up in the same neighbourhood, knew all the same people, went to the same school. She was just a little too young for him when they were teenagers, but by the time he was in his early 20s and home on leave, they saw each other with different eyes. She wasn’t just his friend’s little sister anymore—she was herself now. Smart, warm, with a fire in her. And she always saw something soft under Santiago’s cool, collected exterior. She was probably the only one who could get him to actually talk about how he felt.

Then came the baby. It wasn’t planned. Maybe it came early in their relationship, but he didn’t hesitate. He married her fast, out of love and a sense of duty, maybe even pride. He probably wanted to be there. He meant to be the kind of father who shows up. But then came the deployments. The training. The classified missions. And even though he loved them both more than anything, he didn’t know how to say no to the work—because part of him felt like protecting people was what gave his life purpose. He probably missed milestones: the first words, the first steps, maybe even birthdays. He’d come home with gifts and money but wasn’t fully present—emotionally checked out, exhausted, and always halfway out the door again.

She loved him—still might—but she needed someone there. She probably gave him chances, had long talks late into the night, asked him to choose them over everything else. And when he couldn’t, when the job kept pulling him away, she made the impossible choice to let him go. Not out of anger, but out of self-respect.-