The signal was active.

That tiny movement…

would reveal everything.

I didn’t return home.

I couldn’t.

It was no longer mine.

Instead, I sat in a quiet café near Buenavista station, staring at my phone.

The vibration wasn’t random.

Inside Diego’s coat was a tracker.

One Eduardo had used during business trips.

I had taken it that morning without thinking too much.

Because deep down…

I knew something wasn’t right.

The app showed movement.

From the cemetery…

to the city center.

He wasn’t grieving.

He was moving forward.

I remembered something.