“No.”
He looked toward the house.
“I thought hiring thirty-seven nannies would fix my daughters.”
Luía smiled.
“They never needed thirty-seven nannies.”
“What did they need?”
She looked at him.
“You.”
Ricardo shook his head.
“And you.”
Luía smiled.
“Maybe.”
He kissed her forehead.
Inside the house, the twins were already shouting.
“LUÍA!”
She sighed.
“What now?”
A crash came from upstairs.
Then Bianca screamed:
“BEATRIZ BROKE THE LAMP!”
“I DIDN’T!”
“YOU DID!”
Ricardo laughed.
Luía covered her face.
“Thirty-eight.”
“What?”
“Thirty-eight disasters.”
They ran inside.
Mariana was laughing.
Laura was laughing.
Julia was laughing.
Sofia was laughing.
Even Isabela was laughing.
The house that had once smelled like grief now smelled like bread again.
And I learned something I wish I had understood the day Claris died.
You cannot replace the person you lose.
You cannot erase grief.
You cannot buy your way out of heartbreak.
