“Because you’re the safest person to attack.”
He frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“They can’t fight cancer.”
“They can’t fight death.”
“They can’t fight the fact that their mother isn’t coming back.”
“So they fight whoever is still here.”
Ricardo looked down.
“And that’s me.”
Luía nodded.
“You’re still here.”
Those three words hurt more than any insult.
Ricardo looked toward the hallway.
“I don’t know how to be both parents.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I have six daughters.”
“I know.”
“They need a mother.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“They need their father.”
Ricardo laughed sadly.
“I’m not enough.”
“Maybe not alone.”
Silence filled the kitchen.
Then Luía said something that would stay with him.
“Mr. Mendoza, your daughters aren’t broken.”
Ricardo looked at her.
“They’re grieving.”
“And grief doesn’t disappear because the house is clean.”
That night, Ricardo couldn’t sleep.
At 2:17 in the morning, he walked past Laura’s bedroom.
