When we got the news, I felt a joy I can’t describe. It was as if the house suddenly had a new future.
My mother cried with emotion.
My sisters seemed happy, too.
But as the months passed… something began to change.
Lucía tired faster.
It was normal.
The pregnancy progressed, her belly growing week by week.
Even so, she continued helping with everything.
I cooked when my sisters came.
I served the table.
I cleaned the dishes.
I told her to rest. She always answered the same:
“It’s okay, Diego. It’s only a few minutes.”
However, those “few minutes” almost always turned into hours.
The night everything changed was a Saturday.
My three sisters had come over for dinner. As usual, the table was full of plates, glasses, spoons, leftover food, and napkins.
After eating, they went straight to the living room with my mother.
I heard them laughing while watching a soap opera.
I went out to the yard for a moment to check something in my truck.
When I returned to the kitchen… I froze.
Lucía stood at the sink.
