I gave my seat to an elderly woman on the minibus, and she whispered to me, “If your husband gives you a necklace, put it in water.” That same night I discovered that the gift wasn’t love, but a curse.

If your husband ever gives you a necklace, put it in water before you wear it.”

The woman said it to me on a crowded minibus as if she had known me for years. I almost laughed—but something in her eyes stopped me cold.

My name is Daniela Vargas. I’m thirty-five and work as an accounting assistant at a construction company in northern Mexico City.

My life was routine. Quiet. Exhausting.