Not because they had to.
Because Sofía had invited them.
She stood outside with her daughter in her arms.
The little girl was nearly six months old now.
Canela ran toward them.
Behind her came four healthy puppies, no longer tiny, no longer weak.
Miguel laughed as one of them jumped against his leg.
“You remember me?”
Canela barked once.
Sofía smiled.
“She remembers everything.”
Miguel looked at the dog.
“So do I.”
He reached into his pocket.
The bracelet was gone.
He had returned it to Sofía.
But he had kept a photograph of it.
Not because it was mysterious anymore.
Because it reminded him of the night when his life had been going one way, and a wounded dog had forced him to choose another.
Lupita took his hand.
“You know what I keep thinking about?”
“What?”
“That night we thought we were rescuing Canela.”
Miguel looked at the dog playing with her puppies.
“Maybe she was rescuing us.”
Lupita smiled.
“Maybe.”
Canela suddenly stopped playing.
She looked at them.
Then she walked over and placed her head against Miguel’s leg.
He crouched down and wrapped his arms around her.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
