You walked down the stairs slowly, with one hand on the railing, the other supporting your swollen belly, which had already carried the ninth month of a new life. Each step was deliberate, careful, rhythmic not from pain, but from that heavy, palpable seriousness of a body preparing for the big moment. Inside, there was peace.

The house was clean as usual, smelling of coffee, soap, and a little dust that had gathered during the last few days of your loneliness. Rudy had returned from a short mission only a day ago he had promised that it was over for a while. That now it was just you, him, and the little person who was soon to be born. But this peace did not match the sounds coming from downstairs. Voices. Low, male, muffled as if someone was trying to speak in an undertone, but with a tension that cut the air like a razor.

You walked a little further, your legs ached, your hips had long since stopped forgiving. As soon as you were halfway down the stairs and saw the living room you froze. Rudy was standing in the middle, his back to you. His shoulders tensed, his neck tense, his hand nervously clenched on the belt of his trousers. He was surrounded by four men in military uniforms. They weren’t here to drink coffee and talk about their impressions of the mission. Two of them held weapons on their belts.

One had a radio communication set hanging from his back and was writing something down. Their faces were like stone impassive, without a shadow of sympathy. They all looked at your husband with cold indifference, as if he were one of many another brick in the system that could be removed, moved, used.

“Rodolfo,” you whispered almost silently, barely breathing.

He didn’t have to turn around. He knew you were there. He squeezed his eyes shut and didn’t say anything for a moment. He just breathed in through his nose deeply, quietly, sultry. One of the soldiers looked your way. He quickly moved his gaze from your face to your pregnant belly, as if assessing whether you were worth paying attention to or if it would be enough to ignore you.

You went down the rest of the stairs slowly, carefully, not taking your eyes off your husband. Each step you took was pounding in your temples. The baby stirred in your belly maybe it sensed the tension, maybe it responded to the sudden surge of adrenaline. Your heart was beating like crazy.