Chapter 7
The officers separated them. They didn’t arrest him at that time, but everything was documented. Roberto handed over copies, videos, messages, the napkin, and the notary documents. They discussed protective measures: staying away from the house, not entering the workshop, and not communicating with him to make threats.
When he heard that, Daniel broke down. —Won’t I be able to come see my dad? No one answered. Because the answer was obvious. Not while seeing me meant measuring walls. Not while calling me dad meant asking for a signature.
Before leaving, Sofia came out from under the table. She walked towards me with small steps. —Grandpa, are we never going to see you again? I knelt down as best I could. My knees cracked. —Yes, you can, my child. As long as it’s safe. This isn’t your fault. He hugged me tightly. Emiliano also clung to my leg.
May you like
Daniel turned his face away. Lucia looked at me with a mixture of shame and fear. “Sorry,” he murmured. I didn’t answer him. Not because I didn’t hear her. But because that forgiveness wasn’t mine to accommodate at that moment. They left at nightfall.
The house was a complete mess. Broken plates, rice on the floor, chairs moved, the cake sunk in a corner. Nico wanted to sweep, but I told him no. I needed to see the full extent of the destruction before cleaning it up. Mrs. Angela made me chamomile tea, even though I always said it tasted like something was sick. I drank it all. “Teresa would be proud,” he said. I looked at my wife’s empty chair. -I don’t know. -I do.
