“Because you’re pulling your hair?”
Laura nodded.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Luía didn’t push.
She simply sat on the floor.
For several minutes, neither spoke.
Then Laura whispered:
“I miss Mom.”
Luía’s throat tightened.
“I know.”
“You don’t know.”
“No,” Luía admitted. “I don’t.”
Laura looked surprised.
Luía continued.
“But I know what it feels like to miss someone.”
The girl looked at her for a long time.
Then she leaned her head against the sofa.
It was the first time since Claris’s death that Laura had spoken honestly to an adult in the house.
But Luía didn’t know that someone else had witnessed the entire conversation.
Mariana.
The twelve-year-old stood at the end of the hallway.
She had heard every word.
That evening, Ricardo entered the dining room.
For the first time in months, all six girls were sitting at the table.
He stopped.
