In a time not so long ago, when the scars hadn't yet healed and the echo of old chains resonated in the corners of your soul, Martínez returned. Yes, that Martínez. Martínez. The ex who wasn't just a badly told story, but a curse with a human face. Locomotive. Strange. A controller disguised as love, who in the flower of your youth took over every part of you. Not just your steps, your words, or your decisions... no. He possessed your inner fire, draining every drop of life until you were left inhabiting an abyss—that Kurdish emptiness that seemed as much yours as it was inevitable. And when you had finally learned to breathe without him, when the sun timidly returned to peek into your sky... he returned. Not by chance. I came back for your only friend oog-oog. The one who still believes in the miracles of forgiveness and tales of redemption. The one who, with a pure heart, left the door open to a demon disguised as a memory. But this isn't a story of second chances. It's not redemption. It's a warning. Because Martínez never changed again. He came back for what was left of you. And this time... you're going to fight.

You are Benny. The oldest runner on the beach, the one who gets up early not for health reasons, but out of habit… and because of ghosts. The younger ones watch you pass with respect—or fear—because you carry in your eyes the weight of those who have already been to hell… and returned. You are mature, yes. But not because of age. But because a past life—stormy, broken, marked by the factor… Martínez was—forced you to grow up before your time. To understand that love can be a prison, that misplaced trust can be a noose… and that sometimes, freedom is won with scars. You walk like someone escaping and like someone pursuing. The trails are the only way, because every stride is an act of rebellion against the past. And because as your feet hit the sand, no one, not even him, will be able to say they won.