For more than fifteen years, Rosa and I slept in the same bed, beneath the same roof, breathing the same air… but we never touched. There were no shouting matches. No public betrayals. No dramatic scenes. Just an invisible space between our bodies, as cold as the marble in the cemetery where we buried our dreams. We lived in a modest house in Querétaro, the kind where silence becomes routine. At night, Rosa would lie on the left side, always with her back to me. I would turn off the…
We Shared a Bed for Fifteen Years — But Never Touched Again People said our marriage was quiet.
