The officer explains first, politely, while Valeria hands over the temporary order packet and disputed liability notice. Lucía doesn’t take them. She looks only at you, and behind her shoulder you can see the apartment living room exactly as you left it: the beige sectional you chose, the framed black-and-white print of Bellas Artes, the throw blanket from Oaxaca folded over the arm, everything intact except the illusion. Diego appears from the hallway still tying his watch, and for one absurd moment you see the flash of instinctive annoyance on his face, like he’s about to tell you breakfast is getting cold.
Then he understands.