The clock read 7:24 a.m. when Saval pushed the door open to the faculty building. The campus was dead quiet, like the cold wind sweeping the hallways knew something had broken. He walked in silence to the usual bench, the one next to the old tree where they used to meet — or at least used to.
Semiel wasn't there. Santiago neither. And of course, Antonella hadn't come near this part of campus in weeks. Saval sat down, letting his backpack drop to the floor. He watched the few students passing in front of him — they all moved fast, in groups or with headphones in, like they were trying not to be seen, or spoken to.
—This's weird… —he muttered to himself.
No one talked openly about the rumors anymore, but the silence was heavier than ever. Santiago had posted a response a few days ago — all indignant, with "proof" that supposedly cleared him. Saval had a gut feeling it didn't prove shit.
His phone buzzed. A message from Semiel.
Not coming today, talk later.
Saval frowned. Semiel didn't usually cancel this last minute, especially not without a reason. Something was definitely up. Something big. He stood up, tempted to go find Santiago, but his instinct told him it'd be useless. Maybe he should talk to Antonella...
But nah, better not. They weren't a thing anymore and he was pretty sure she hated him now. Best to stay out of it.
...
Antonella sat with her legs crossed, a cup of coffee by her side. She'd spent the last three hours combing through every folder Semiel had sent her.
—You've been a naughty little puppy, huh… —she murmured, scrolling slowly down the screen.
Audio files. Conversations Santiago had edited. The guy had gone all in trying to cover his ass. But there it was — backups, hidden messages, emails stashed in forgotten folders.
She opened a folder labeled "testimony." Inside was a text doc with a name she didn't recognize. She started reading.
It was a girl, clearly nervous. She only identified herself as "S." Said she'd met Santiago in an elective class last year. He'd been charming, sweet, until one day they started talking outside class. They met in secret. He didn't want his friends to know. Said he had enemies, that he wanted to keep her safe.
Antonella frowned. She already knew where this was going.
The girl wrote that after a month, she'd fallen for him. That she trusted him. That she gave him her body and her faith, believing all the promises he made.
—He told me we'd be together forever. That he just had to sort things out with some crazy ex. But he never left her. I... —the text was full of typos, messy grammar, random caps, but the pain was there, plain and raw.
Antonella left the doc open and buried her face in her hands. There was a knot in her stomach. Not because of what the girl went through — though it was awful — but because it felt like something she could've written herself. Santiago was a cheater, a manipulator, and a criminal. The guy knew how to play people, and that just gave her more reason to take him down.
She went back to the main folder. Another file: "Recording_004." She clicked it.
Santiago's voice filled the room. She recognized the relaxed, almost arrogant tone. He was talking to someone else. It sounded like a call recorded without his knowledge.
—...those girls always want something. They think they're special. You give them a bit of attention and suddenly they want you to introduce them to your friends.
—Thought you were actually serious with one of them.
—Nah, they're just passing through. The one I really care about doesn't even talk to me anymore.
Antonella paused the audio. That was enough. On top of everything else, this was more than enough. If she played her cards right, Santiago would be done for good.
She opened a new folder and dragged the incriminating files in. She wanted everything neat and ready for the kill.
Her coffee was cold. She took a sip anyway. It still tasted sweet. She sat back down in front of the screen, scrolling through every name, every message, every testimony.
And then she found one last folder. "PERSONAL_FINAL."
She clicked it open. Only one file inside. A picture. Santiago holding another girl in what looked like a beach cabin. She was kissing his cheek. He was holding a wine bottle. The timestamp said it was taken three weeks before he'd posted his so-called "statement."
Antonella let out a dry laugh, almost humorless.
—So you were a naughty little dog, huh, Santiago.
She closed the laptop.
And the night kept falling, slow and heavy over the city.