Wrong. Strange.
“Sir…” he said slowly, “your baby is not sick.”
A tense silence filled the room.
And then…
Laughter.
“Did you hear that?” a doctor said sarcastically. “Now it seems a street kid knows more than we do.”
Camila, eyes full of anguish, shoved him away.
—Get out! You bring bad luck!
Mateo fell to the floor.
The bottles rolled across the shiny tiles.
No one helped.
No one listened.
But he… couldn’t look away.
That detail.
That tiny movement that screamed what no one wanted to hear.
He gritted his teeth.
“No… it’s not an illness…” he whispered, almost to himself.
Inside… the monitor beeped again.
But this time…
Slower.
Weaker.
Closer to the end.
Mateo felt something snap inside him.
