PAGE 5
Ricardo arrived at the school furious.
He expected an apology.
Instead, Mariana sat in the principal’s office with a split lip.
A boy from her class had a bruise beneath one eye.
The principal explained that the argument had started after the boy said something about Claris.
“What did he say?” Ricardo asked.
Mariana looked away.
“Nothing.”
“Mariana.”
“Nothing.”
The principal cleared his throat.
“He made a comment about her mother.”
Ricardo’s jaw tightened.
“What comment?”
Mariana stood.
“He said Mom died because she was weak.”
Ricardo closed his eyes.
The room became very quiet.
“I hit him.”
“I know.”
“I’d do it again.”
Ricardo looked at his daughter.
He wanted to punish her.
He wanted to tell her violence was wrong.
But he also understood why she had exploded.
On the drive home, neither spoke.
When they arrived, Luía was waiting in the kitchen.
She took one look at Mariana.
“What happened?”
“Nothing,” Mariana said.
Luía nodded.
“Okay.”
Mariana stopped.
“What?”
“I said okay.”
“You don’t want to know?”
“I already know.”
“How?”
“Your face.”
Mariana stared at her.
Then she suddenly burst into tears.
It wasn’t quiet crying.
It was the kind of crying that came from somewhere deep.
Luía walked toward her.
Mariana stepped back.
“I hate everyone!”
Ricardo froze.
“I hate this house!”
She pointed toward the hallway.
“I hate those stupid pictures!”
She pointed toward the family photographs.
“I hate people saying Mom is gone!”
Then she screamed:
“I HATE YOU, DAD!”
Ricardo went still.
Mariana immediately looked horrified.
She hadn’t meant to say it.
Or perhaps she had.
Luía didn’t move.
Ricardo looked at his daughter.
“I know.”
Mariana blinked.
“What?”
“I know.”
His voice broke.
“You don’t hate me.”
She started crying harder.
“You just hate that I’m not Mom.”
Mariana covered her face.
Ricardo walked toward her.
This time she didn’t run.
She fell into his arms.
And the two of them cried together.
Luía quietly left the room.
She knew that some moments belonged only to families.
But that evening, something changed between Ricardo and his daughters.
Not everything.
Not magically.
But something.
For the first time, he stopped trying to hire people to repair the damage.
He began trying to be present.
He ate dinner with them.
He helped Laura brush her hair.
He sat outside Julia’s bedroom during her panic attacks.
He changed Sofia’s sheets without making her feel ashamed.
He let Beatriz and Bianca tell him about their latest schemes.
And he carried Isabela around the house while she slept.
Luía continued cleaning.
But her real job had quietly become something else.
She was helping them reconnect.
Then one afternoon, Ricardo returned home early.
He heard laughter.
Real laughter.
Not nervous laughter.
Not the twins’ mischievous giggling.
Real laughter.
He walked into the living room.
Luía was sitting on the floor.
The six girls surrounded her.
She was reading a story.
Isabela was asleep against her leg.
Laura was braiding Luía’s hair.
The twins were arguing about who got to turn the pages.
Julia was smiling.
And Mariana was sitting beside Luía, pretending not to care.
Ricardo stood in the doorway.
He hadn’t seen his daughters like that since before Claris died.
Then Mariana looked up.
“Dad.”
“Yes?”
“Can Luía stay forever?”
Ricardo looked at Luía.
She looked uncomfortable.
He smiled.
“We’ll see.”
But that night, a letter arrived at the mansion.
It was from Luía’s university.
Her tuition was overdue.
She had been given one final deadline.
If she couldn’t pay, she would lose her place in the child psychology program.
And she had no idea that Ricardo had found the letter.
