Rosaura and José Antonio had been married for ten years. For the past six, José Antonio had abused, raped, beaten, and humiliated his wife. At first, everything seemed perfect. They lived a romantic fantasy, full of affection and dreams. But with time, that illusion shattered. The loving man she had married became a stranger—a monster.
One night, José Antonio came home drunk. Rosaura gently asked him what was wrong, but he snapped. Without warning, he slapped her so hard she collapsed to the floor. He began to kick her.
"Women like you... this is what you deserve," he muttered coldly.
Rosaura cried silently, stunned by the brutality. José Antonio, unfazed, left the house, slamming the door behind him. She lay on the ground, motionless. She wanted to believe this had only happened because he was drunk.
The next morning, he returned with red carnations, a letter of apology, and a heart-shaped box of chocolates.
"Baby, please forgive me. I don't know what came over me. I'd never hurt you on purpose," he whispered, kissing her cheeks and lips.
Rosaura said nothing. She looked at him, searching for the man she once loved. Her heart asked questions her mind could not answer: Should I forgive him? Will this happen again?
"Please say something," he insisted, touching her chin gently.
"What do you want me to say? I don't know if this is sincere or another one of your lies," she replied, her voice broken.
"I swear it won't happen again," he said, holding her hand.
"I need time," she responded, withdrawing her hand.
"If that's what you want, I'll stay at my parents'. I just don't want to lose you."
Moved by what seemed like remorse, Rosaura forgave him. That same day, they went out to eat and acted like newlyweds. They made love. The next morning, he brought her breakfast in bed.
They lived in peace for a month. They even traveled to the Galápagos Islands for a second honeymoon. But as in all abusive cycles, the calm didn't last.
One afternoon, while ironing José Antonio's shirt, Rosaura noticed a lipstick stain.
"What's this?" she asked.
"It's lipstick. So what?" he replied, mocking her.
"I'm your wife!" she snapped.
"Oh, now you're my wife? Then act like it and stop rejecting me in bed," he growled.
"I don't want to—not like this."
"I'm tired of your excuses!" he shouted, tearing off his clothes.
"You wouldn't dare!" Rosaura gasped, stepping back.
"I would—and I will!"
He struck her hard. She lost consciousness. While she was out cold, he locked all doors and destroyed the phones. Then, he raped her. When Rosaura came to, she tried to fight back, biting him, but he overpowered her. She ran to the bedroom. He caught her again. The cycle of beating and rape repeated.
"Scream all you want. No one's coming," he roared. "One of us will end up in jail. The other, dead."
Desperate, Rosaura scratched him until he recoiled. She dashed to the kitchen, grabbed a knife, and waited.
"You won't kill me. You're too weak," he taunted.
"You made me this way. And now we'll both pay," she answered.
He lunged at her with another knife. They stabbed each other. He knocked her down, trying to rape her again, but she kept stabbing him. He stabbed her back. The assault turned into a brutal fight for survival—one last act of mutual destruction.
Four hours later, both were dead. Six hours later, the police arrived with the forensic team. After two hours of examining the scene and the bodies, the deaths were officially confirmed.
The following day, the relatives of José Antonio and Rosaura went to the morgue to identify the bodies, confirming their worst fears: their children had died.
Both families wept and exchanged bitter accusations, unable to comprehend how their loved ones had endured such a tragic fate.
Two weeks later, the families held separate funerals for José Antonio and Rosaura. After the ceremonies, they severed all communication with one another.