And the child on the way.
At that moment, we heard a noise behind us.
We all turned.
Lucía stood at the entrance to the room.
Her apron had been left on the kitchen table.
Her eyes were glistening.
I didn’t know how long I had been listening.
She walked slowly toward us.
“Diego,” she said in a low voice. “You didn’t need to argue for me.”
A lump rose in my throat.
“Of course it was necessary.”
She shook her head gently.
“I don’t want to cause trouble among your family.”
I took her hands in mine.
They were cold.
“Lucía,” I said softly. “You are my family.”
No one spoke.
Not my sisters.
Not my mother.
Lucía looked at me, unsure of what to do with those words.
Then something unexpected happened.
My mother stood.
She walked slowly toward Lucía.
