Shortly after that, Jorge, a friend recently separated, moved into their house. Gloria, his wife, felt lonely too and called to ask if she could live with them. They were hesitant to admit they were already sheltering her ex, yet they agreed. Since the kids had left, there were two empty rooms a little apart. They considered that the two could share one end of the hallway. But that night they spoke with Jorge, explained what had happened, and suggested: If the situation bothers you, after Gloria leaves him, return to your own home.
“No way,” he replied. “That house is cursed.” I’m staying here, he said.
“Well, don’t show yourself too much,” I urged.
Gloria arrived the next day, and it didn’t take long to learn that her ex also lived there.
They acknowledged the situation: you’re both our friends. We could not accept one and reject the other.
Gloria decided to stay a few nights while she searched for another place.
But why not stay home? he asked.
“The walls are closing in on me,” he complained.
It surprised them to see two people who had shared a comfortable, spacious chalet with a garden — a place they themselves had envied in better days — now cohabiting under the same roof. Gloria’s “few days” stretched into a week, then two, then a longer stay. Jorge, for his part, settled in and showed no signs of leaving. In this neutral space, the couple began to forget their differences, and it wasn’t hard for them to eat breakfast together in dressing gowns, chatting about ordinary things. The narrator and their partner started to feel like intruders in their own home. One day Gloria suggested they move to the chalets, a plan that seemed perfect. They have stayed there for two months now, and there is something unsettling in the house that stirs controversy they had never encountered before. They love the property, yet happiness feels elusive in this environment.