In the last row of that huge theater, in the dark and holding between his still trembling hands, a script of white sheets with coffee stains, stood Victor.

He was pensive. Staring attentively at the stage illuminated with the dim yellow light of the last scene that his mind repeats over and over again. He is one of the most influential theater directors in the city and the play he has just seen will never fade from his memory. It was so delicately written for his wife, the youngest and most inexperienced actress in the theater, to shine and take her career to the top.

The main character, José, enters the room, simple but it looks cozy and his wife is waiting for him sitting on the bed.
Estella: My love, why that expression? Has something bad happened to you?
Jose: They fired me from my job. The coffee importer can't keep up with the expenses and they laid off a large part of the workers.
Estella: I'll pour you a cup of coffee and then we'll go to bed, you'll see that you'll soon find a new job.
He drinks his coffee and then both lovers enter under the sheets. End of the first act.

On opening night, with the theater full, Victor broke the feeling of pride and admiration he felt for his wife when he realized that much more than a dramatization was going on under the prop sheets. Wounded, with his love dragging, he tightened his grip on the cushioned arms of the theater seat and got up to leave. He had to get some air. A horrible idea flooded his thoughts.

From the theater's cafeteria, Victor could hear the scene. And inwardly he was filled with jealousy and rage.

Estella: Don't worry my love, whatever happens I will always love you and support you in everything to get through this. Always together.
The lovers melt in an embrace and the curtain falls. End of the play.

While drinking his third cup of Irish coffee, Victor heard the applause and knew he had to put an end to the relationship between that fifth-rate actor and his wife. With a cold look and a slow step, he entered his beautiful wife's dressing room. She was beautiful and from her eyes flashed a light of happiness that Victor had never seen before.

The next night, the theater sold out quickly and was packed with spectators. Estella had done so well on opening night that everyone wanted to see her on stage. While the actors were getting ready in the dressing room, Victor was preparing the details of the plan to finish off his rival.

The play began. Victor waited impatiently. He knew that the dose of blowfish poison that he had bought in Chinatown and put in the coffee that the actor would drink in the first act would be enough to get rid of the rival who was stealing the love of his beloved wife.

He entered the proscenium with the prompter, while holding the white-paged script in his hands. And he watched closely every second of the scene.

Estella: I'll pour you a cup of coffee and then we'll go to bed, you'll see you'll soon find a new job.

The actor refused the coffee. Victor gritted his teeth, he needed her to drink the brew that would make him disappear from her life. Then his wife, like a good actress, improvised a few lines to stay in the scene.

Jose: He refuses the cup of coffee and sits on the edge of the bed.
Estella: I'll drink it and then we'll go to bed. It's good to sleep cuddled up so we know that tomorrow everything will be okay.
Estella takes a big sip of coffee and turns to continue talking to her beloved.

Victor freaks out in the hole of the prompter. But he controls himself not to scream, as he would give himself away and everyone would know it was him who put the poison in the coffee.

A couple of seconds later, the beautiful actress, his wife, falls to the floor splashing the poisoned coffee on the boards, the prompters and the white sheet script Victor was holding.

The woman's eyes come face to face with Victor's as he breaks down in tears and despair.

Fate has played its dirty trick, it has stabbed Victor and his wife and the actor.

Hours later, when the hustle and bustle, the police interrogations, the sirens of the ambulance carrying away the cold body of his beloved and the torturous questions of the press have passed, Victor settles in the armchair at the back of the theater to relive the last play over and over again in his mind while in his hand he holds the script of white sheets with coffee stains and a cup of Irish coffee where he has poured the rest of the poison to reunite with his beloved wife.