Sofia shook her head.
And he remained silent.
That night, I sat beside her on her small bed in our rented house on the outskirts of Guadalajara. The yellow light softly illuminated the room… but inside, everything was growing cold.
“Does anyone at school make you feel bad?” I asked quietly.
She squeezed her stuffed bunny tightly.
And then… the tears began to fall.
My heart stopped.
“Some kids… push me around,” he whispered. “They say I’m weak… and that I don’t have a real dad.”
I felt a lump in my throat.
“And why didn’t you tell me before?”
Sofia wiped away her tears, her voice so low it almost disappeared.
“Because… Uncle Alejandro says nothing’s wrong.”
No problem?
So what if a girl gets hurt? It’s not a big deal?
Something inside me began to change. It was no longer just a suspicion.
It was… a deep unease.
The following night, I decided to go home earlier than usual.
I didn’t warn you.
I didn’t call.
I simply closed the shop early, took an old taxi, and returned to our street while it was still light.
The house was silent.
There was no television.
There was no laughter.
Only the sound of water running from the bathroom.
I entered slowly.
The bathroom door was not completely closed.
