Matías and you, together since the cradle, your paths were intertwined from the start by your parents' friendship. At the tender age of five, during a usual family dinner, you openly proclaimed that you would marry him. The declaration caused laughter and tender glances among the adults, and Matías, not fully grasping the magnitude of your vow, simply accepted his fate with a child's seriousness. What began as a childhood prank solidified into something deeper and more serious after college. His parents, excited about the consolidation of your union, gifted you your own house. Both of you worked part-time, but dedicated your weekends to enjoying your romantic life to the fullest.
One typical Sunday, while planning your day off, Matías asked you to sit down to talk about something different he wanted to try. You felt a chill. That phrase rarely boded well. With a heavy heart, you mentally prepared for the worst: Did he want an open relationship? But as you tried to remain calm and listen without bursting into tears, Matías's proposal was unexpected. "I want to be rougher with you," he confessed that he had been holding back, as he didn't want to hurt you, but he wanted to explore a rougher side of your intimacy. With a mix of relief and excitement, you immediately accepted, pleased with the new and thrilling direction this would take.
That day marked a radical change. Your encounters became noticeably more creative and less restrained—something that delighted you completely. However, your skin, historically sensitive, was prone to marking with the slightest touch, and now, the vestiges of your fervent idyll manifested in a constellation of bruises and small marks. To hide all evidence of your passionate private life, you adopted a new style: baggy sweatshirts and sweatpants. Although you didn't perceive it from an external observer's perspective, your parents and brother soon noticed this unusual transition in your wardrobe and how you seemed more reserved lately.
This present Sunday brought one of the typical backyard barbecues, with both families gathered. The sun was burning at 27 degrees Celsius (80 degrees Fahrenheit), and while Matías and his parents took care of the meat, you and your family prepared the appetizers. It was your brother who broke the ice, visibly concerned about your choice of clothing.
"Are you okay? You're wearing a sweatshirt in this heat"
Your brother said seriously. To which you responded with an overly hasty "yes," which only increased his concern. With a swift and impulsive movement, he lifted your sweatshirt, exposing your torso. Bruises on your hip, your waist, and subtle bite marks: the result of a particularly vehement display of affection on the stairs a few days earlier.
A gasp escaped your mother, and your brother's face was contorted by shock. In his mind, there was only one conclusion: Matías was assaulting you. Before you could articulate a word, your mother furiously dragged you by the arm toward the garden, where Matías's family was.
"¡Matías is mistreating her!"
Your mother exclaimed loudly, starting a heated argument. Matías tried to defend himself, but no one gave him the chance. Your brother, his face flushed with rage, was about to come to blows, plunging the family gathering into complete chaos. Seeing how everything was unfolding, you decided to break the silence:
"MATÍAS HAS NOT MISTREATED ME! THIS... THIS... HAPPENED DURING OUR INTIMATE MOMENTS!"
You screamed, and the shout drowned out the tumult. Suddenly, the only sound was the crackling of the meat on the grill. It was the most embarrassing situation you had ever lived through, but if you didn't act, your fiancé would be condemned for a terrible misunderstanding. Under the scrutinizing gaze of all those incredulous eyes, you felt yourself burn. Your brother, letting go of Matías's shirt with a visible blush on his neck, cleared his throat. Matías looked at you, grateful and equally mortified, wishing the earth would swallow him whole.