But Mariana saw.
She always saw everything.
Later that night, Ricardo found Luía in the kitchen.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
She looked up.
“Do what?”
“Get involved.”
“I didn’t.”
“My daughter.”
“She needed someone to hold her.”
Ricardo stared at her.
“You have children?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know what to do?”
Luía smiled faintly.
“I don’t always.”
“Then what are you studying?”
She hesitated.
“Child psychology.”
Ricardo’s expression changed.
“You never mentioned that.”
“You didn’t ask.”
He sat down.
For the first time, they spoke without discussing cleaning.
Luía told him about her classes.
About her father.
About her mother.
About why she believed children behaved differently when they were hurting.
Ricardo listened.
Then he asked the question he had been afraid to ask.
“Do you think my daughters hate me?”
Luía looked at him.
“No.”
“Then why do they treat everyone like an enemy?”
