The twin children of the millionaire widower did not eat anything, until the new nanny did something unexpected and changed their lives forever.

When Mariana got out of the car in front of Ricardo Navarro’s huge mansion, she feels a tingle of nerves and excitement. It’s not like any house, it’s a house full of silence.

Upon entering, she sees a long corridor, large paintings, tall windows that let in light without warmth. The employees barely respond with a short “hello”, as if everything were normal, but she feels that there is something strange in the air. At that, Ricardo appears, a tall, well-dressed man, with a slightly frown.

He doesn’t offer her his hand, he just says “good morning” and that’s enough to understand that he’s not in the mood for talks. He introduces her to the children, Emiliano and Sofia, 8-year-old twins. He points to them without emotion and tells them that she will be his nanny. He sees them up close, he with an empty gaze, she with her arms crossed, both dressed the same, as if they were mirrors. Mariana gives them a shy smile and asks them what they want for dinner. The children look at her and shrug their shoulders. The girl says “nothing”.

The boy repeats the word “nothing.” Mariana’s heart sinks a little because that means that her work will not be as she imagined. Ricardo observes her and nods as if approving something, but without emotion. Later, he takes them all on a tour of the house. They enter the dining room and she sees fine plates, silverware, a huge table without food.

Then they go to the living room with armchairs that look comfortable, but no one seems to sit there for a long time. In the garden there are old toys and a round table to eat outside that has not been used either. The children pass by, without peeking out.

The flour in the cookies that Mariana was planning two seconds ago is going out of her head. As they walk, the nanny writes photos on the shelves. Ricardo and his wife Lucia together, smiling, hugging. The children are just like Lucia, especially Sofia. Mariana feels a lump in her throat.

When they finish the tour, Ricardo tells her to start tomorrow at 8 and leaves her alone with the children. In silence, alone with them for the first time.

She talks to them again in a soft voice. She asks them how they are. Nothing, you only hear the echo of her voice in the hallway. That confirms to her that it’s not just a matter of hunger. Something happened at home. She leaves the room and sees Ricardo sitting in his office from a distance. He doesn’t look at her, but she feels his gaze. She lowers her head for a moment and continues on her way to the kitchen, thinking about what to do to get those children to eat.

Outside, as the sun goes down, shadows grow throughout the mansion. And Mariana wonders if those threads of silence can be broken with her. She stays for a moment looking at a cookie that someone left unfinished on the counter. She puts it in her mouth and tastes it, tasteless, but there is a spark of complicity in the simple gesture. Close your eyes.

This is just beginning.

Mariana changed her clothes quickly. No uniform, no looking like a nurse or strict teacher. She chose comfortable jeans and a light blouse. She tied her hair up and went down to the kitchen. There she met Chayo, the cook, a woman in her 60s, serious, with a deep voice.

Mariana introduced herself with a smile, but Chayo barely looked up from the vegetables she was chopping.

“Why do you dress up so much?” Here the children don’t even peel you and the man even less,” he blurted out without a filter.

Mariana just laughed softly. He didn’t like the tone, but decided not to get hooked. As Chayo finished the meal, Mariana asked how the children liked the food.

“They liked rice with banana, but that was when Lucia was alive,” Chayo said without stopping.

Mariana noticed that “they liked it” as if they didn’t like it anymore.

“And what did you eat yesterday?” he asked.

“Nothing.

Mariana remained silent. Chayo didn’t seem worried.

“That’s how they are. They don’t eat. Since their mother died, no one has made them eat. Five nannies have already passed. They all left.

Mariana was curious, but she didn’t want to seem meticulous. He walked over to the table, cleaned up the area a bit, and began to lay the dishes. The dining room was huge, with a lamp hanging down that gave more shade than light. He put napkins with animal figures that he found in a drawer.

Nothing very flashy, just an attempt to make the moment more pleasant. Ricardo appeared punctual, dressed as in the morning, elegant, but soulless. He saluted dryly, sat at the front of the table and checked his cell phone.

Mariana set up the plates and called the children. They went down without haste, holding hands. They sat across from each other. No one spoke. Chayo served rice, roasted chicken, and hot soup. The smell was good, but the children didn’t even look at it.

Mariana sat next to them, watching every gesture. Ricardo looked up for a second.

“They can eat if they want. They are not obligated,” he said. Then he looked down at the phone.

Mariana leaned a little towards Sofia.

“Do you want me to help you with the chicken?”

The girl shook her head. Emiliano only looked at his plate as if it were a blank sheet.

Mariana thought about her nephews, about how they liked to make figures with food.

“What if we make a face with rice?” he proposed in a low voice.

Sofia rolled her eyes.

“We don’t want to eat,” Emiliano blurted out without emotion.

Ricardo looked up, but said nothing. Mariana smiled at the boy.

“Okay, you don’t have anything to eat, but you can tell me what your day was like.”

The children were speechless. Chayo watched from the kitchen with a face of “I told you so”. Ricardo got up before 10 minutes had passed.

“I have a call. Excuse me.”

He left without further ado.

Mariana was left alone with the children. The silence weighed, but he did not give up. He stopped. It was for an apple. He broke it into wedges, arranged it in the shape of a star on a small plate and placed it between the two of them.

“It’s not real food, it’s a figure just to see if you can guess what it is.”

The children looked at the plate. One second. Two. Sofia stretched out her hand and arranged a segment. Emiliano made another move.

They didn’t eat it, but they had already touched something. Chayo clicked his tongue.

“That’s not dinner,” he muttered from the kitchen.

Mariana ignored the comment. She sat there, saying nothing more, just watching as the children, without speaking, arranged it one piece at a time, making a kind of flower. When they finished, Sofia pushed the plate towards Mariana.

“It’s a sun,” he said. Emiliano nodded.

Mariana smiled. It wasn’t food, but it was a first step. A sun made of apple in a house where everything was cold. The dinner ended with full plates, but for the first time someone spoke, even if it was a little bit.

Mariana cleaned everything, washed the dishes and, when she was about to go upstairs, Chayo approached her.

“Don’t get attached, nothing changes here.”

Mariana just looked at her.

“We’ll see,” he replied quietly. And he walked slowly up the stairs, knowing that what was coming would be more difficult than he imagined.

The morning began with the soft sound of birds outside, but in the mansion nothing could be heard, not a voice, not a laugh, not a complaint.

Mariana woke up early and went straight to the kitchen. Chayo was already there, grinding coffee and cutting fruit with the same unfriendly expression. Mariana said to him:

“Good morning.”

But Chayo just raised her eyebrow.

Mariana wasn’t intimidated, she prepared hot milk with a little cinnamon, toasted bread and put everything on a tray.

She walked firmly up to the bedrooms, knocked on the twins’ bedroom door, waited a second, and then entered. They were already awake, sitting up in bed, watching TV with the volume down. Mariana placed the tray on a low table. “There are no rules today,” she told them. The two turned to look at her. “We’re going to do something different.
” No one answered, but they didn’t ignore her either. Mariana signaled with her hand for them to follow her. They went downstairs in silence, past the enormous dining room, and straight into the kitchen. Chayo saw them and let out a dry laugh. They can’t be here. Mariana looked at her calmly. Today they can.
Chayo looked at her with wide eyes. That’s against the master’s rules. Mariana took a deep breath. “Then I’ll go.” And she continued on her way, with the children in tow. The kitchen was spacious, full of light, and with a large island in the center. Mariana took out flour, eggs, milk, and sugar. She put everything on the table as if it were a game. Emiliano approached without touching anything. Sofía looked at her curiously.
Mariana gave them each a bowl. “We’re going to make pancakes, but you’re the chefs. I’m just helping.” They looked at each other, as if wondering if they could really do it. Sofía was the first to put her hands in the flour. Emiliano dared to crack an egg, although he did it so hard that it splashed his face. Mariana didn’t laugh; she just offered him a towel.
That’s what happens when you rush. It’s okay. Little by little, they loosened up, laughed softly, mixed, and tasted. The kitchen began to fill with a rich, different smell. Chayo watched them from the stove, arms crossed. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t leave. When they finished cooking, Mariana put the pancakes on small plates and took them to the kitchen table, not the dining room.
She sat with them, gave them honey, banana slices, and a little whipped cream. Sofía looked doubtful. Emiliano twirled the fork in his hand. Mariana didn’t look at them directly; she just ate hers. Calmly, as if everything were normal. Sofía was the first. She took a tiny piece. Mariana pretended not to notice. Then Emiliano did too. They didn’t say anything, but chewed.
Mariana almost burst into tears right there, but held it back. She just said, “It was very good.” They didn’t reply, but finished half of it. That’s when Ricardo walked in. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the scene. The three of them sitting in the kitchen, dirty dishes, flour on the table, children eating. Mariana looked at him without moving.
“Good morning,” he said. Sofía put down her fork. Emiliano stayed still. Ricardo approached, serious. “What are you doing here?” Mariana stood up. “We’re having breakfast. The children cooked. It was my idea.” Ricardo looked at the children. They didn’t speak. “Did you cook?” Emiliano asked. He nodded. Sofía lowered her gaze. “Did you eat?” This time they didn’t say anything. Only Mariana answered.
Yes, for the first time. Ricardo took a deep breath, looked at the table, and then at Mariana. That wasn’t in the plan. So what if it was in the plan? she asked quietly. Chayo intervened from his corner. They’ve interfered where they shouldn’t. This isn’t a diner. Ricardo looked at her. It’s okay, Chayo. Just leave us for a moment. The woman pursed her lips and left.
Mariana didn’t know if they were going to fire her right there. Ricardo stared at the plates. Then at the children. “Did you like it?” he asked. Sofía made a barely visible gesture. Emiliano said quietly. “Yes.” Ricardo didn’t know what to do with that answer. Neither did Mariana. He adjusted his jacket. “Okay, but don’t make a habit of it.” He left without another word.
When the door closed, Mariana sat down again. Sofía gave her her fork. “Can we cook again?” Mariana nodded. “Whenever you want.” The kitchen filled with noise again. Plates, soft laughter, and clinking spoons. It wasn’t a formal meal; it was something else, something more lively, something more real. The golden rule was simple: no forcing, just letting them decide. For the first time, it worked.
The routine in the house was no longer the same, even though no one said so out loud. Mariana noticed it from the moment she walked down the stairs. The hallways didn’t feel so cold anymore, and the children didn’t lock themselves in their rooms all day. Now they came out, even if it was just to see what she was cooking or to ask her something silly, like whether pancakes could be shaped like dinosaurs.
That morning, Sofía appeared in the kitchen with her hair disheveled and a stuffed animal in her hand. Mariana was washing the dishes. The girl didn’t say anything; she just sat at the counter and looked at her. Mariana gave her a banana, just like that, without saying anything. Sofía took it and carefully peeled it off. Mariana could hardly believe it. It wasn’t much, but it was something. Emiliano arrived two minutes later.
Today we’re going to cook. Ariana dried her hands and turned around. “If you want.” He nodded and sat next to his sister. Both were silent, but there, together, they were present. Ricardo watched them from the doorway without entering. He only observed them for a few seconds before continuing on his way, but Mariana noticed.
He passed by the children more often, always with excuses—that he forgot something, that he was looking for a piece of paper—but Mariana knew better. He was watching. She didn’t know what to make of it yet, but she let him do it. That same day, Mariana took them to the backyard. It was the first time. See? She opened the gate with a key she found in one of the kitchen drawers.
It was a large yard with tall trees and a dry fountain. There were old toys in one corner, some rusty, but the grass was green. The children hesitated to go out. Sofía stayed in the doorway. Emiliano looked at her as if asking permission. Mariana walked on without turning around, as if it were the most normal thing to do. When she reached the center of the garden, she heard them running behind her.
They played with a deflated ball they found in some bushes. Mariana taught them a game from her childhood: throwing the ball in the air and catching it without dropping it. Sofía laughed every time she missed. Emiliano imitated her. Mariana let them win. It had been so long since they laughed that she felt the air in the place had changed.
In the afternoon, Mariana took them to the playroom, which had been closed for a long time. Ricardo had locked it because, he said, it brought back painful memories. But Mariana found the key in a toolbox. They entered slowly. Dust covered almost everything. There were dolls, books, a miniature wooden house, and a rug with painted paths.
The children didn’t say anything; they just looked at everything with a mixture of surprise and sadness. Mariana shook the rug vigorously, opened the windows, and let the light in. This room is yours. You can do whatever you want here. Emiliano walked over to a bookshelf and picked up a book. Sofía sat in a corner and hugged an old doll.
They didn’t speak, but their bodies spoke volumes. At dinnertime, Mariana let them choose the menu. “Today is your day,” she told them. Sofía ordered quesadillas, and Emiliano wanted rice and plantain. Mariana got to work. Chayo watched from a distance with his arms crossed. “I’ve never seen those kids ask for food,” he murmured. Mariana smiled at him. Neither had I.
When they sat down to eat, the plates weren’t empty, but at least the food wasn’t left untouched. It was as if, little by little, the ice was beginning to melt. That night, Mariana stayed a little longer after bedtime, reading them a story while they settled under the sheets.
When she finished, they didn’t say anything, but didn’t ask her to leave. She remained silent for a while longer. Sofía turned toward the wall. Emiliano lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. Mariana stroked their hair very gently. No one moved. When she left the room, Ricardo was waiting for her in the hallway.
His hands were in his pockets, his face tense. Mariana looked at him, unsure if he was annoyed or curious. He broke the silence. “What did you do to them?” Mariana frowned. “Nothing, I was just with them.” Ricardo nodded slowly. It had been a long time since she’d seen them. So Mariana wanted to say something more, but she didn’t. She just looked into his eyes.
He lowered his gaze as if he felt guilty. Each step they took was small, but real, and that was beginning to be felt in every corner of that house, which finally seemed less like a house and more like a home, even though no one said it with words. The sky was partly cloudy, but the weather was perfect for being outside. It wasn’t hot, it wasn’t cold.
Mariana went downstairs with the children after lunch. Emiliano was carrying a ball under his arm, and Sofía was carrying a notebook in which she drew sad faces with big eyes. Mariana didn’t say anything about it; she just opened the garden gate without asking anyone. Chayo looked at her from the window again with a look that said, “You’re going to get into trouble,” but he didn’t say anything.
The three of them went out into the garden. There was a long table with wooden benches in one corner. Mariana approached, wiped it with a rag, and placed some juices she had prepared in jars with straws on it. “Today we’re going to do something different,” she said. Emiliano left the ball on the grass and approached. Sofía sat down without putting down her notebook.
Mariana took out a cardboard box. It had round-tipped scissors, crayons, tape, old buttons, yarn, dried leaves, and a bunch of other things. “Let’s invent something. A monster, a robot, a strange animal, whatever comes to mind.” Sofía looked up for the first time all day. Emiliano took out some buttons. “This is trash,” he asked. Mariana laughed. ”
Yes, but great things come out of trash.” They spent more than an hour there. Mariana made a bird out of cardboard tubes, Sofia a dog out of bottle caps, and Emiliano a robot out of cans. No one spoke much, but the atmosphere was relaxed, even cheerful. From time to time, soft laughter could be heard. Mariana liked those kinds of moments, unforced, natural, the kind that come when no one is pretending. Ricardo watched them from his office window.
He closed his computer without realizing it. He watched as Emiliano showed off his robot as if it were a trophy. Mariana applauded it as if it really were a work of art. Sofia showed him her drawing, and Mariana hugged her without making a fuss. She just hugged her like someone who knows how much that moment is worth.
Ricardo ran his hand over his face. Something itched in his chest. Later, Mariana brought a tray of cookies she baked with the children the day before. She asked them if they wanted one. Emiliano grabbed two. Sofía only one, but she ate it all. Mariana pretended not to be excited, just gave them a glass of milk and continued with the game. Afterward, they played soccer. Mariana was the goalkeeper.
Sofía screamed every time Emiliano scored. Mariana threw herself onto the fake grass. She pretended she couldn’t get up. The children laughed. The ball rolled across the grass. Ricardo looked out the window again. This expression didn’t go away; he just stood there leaning against the frame with his arms crossed, saying nothing. When it started to get dark, Mariana cleaned everything up with the children’s help. She didn’t ask him to.
They did it alone. They put away the supplies, took the glasses to the kitchen, and washed their hands. Chayo didn’t interfere, but watched them out of the corner of his eye. Minones’s face looked strange, as if he didn’t know if she was upset or surprised. Once in the living room, Mariana let them watch a cartoon episode. They sat on the floor with cushions. Emiliano fell asleep.
Sofía leaned against Mariana without saying a word. When Ricardo came in and saw them like that, he fell silent. Mariana signaled him to keep quiet. He just nodded. Mariana walked with him into the hallway. Ricardo didn’t look her in the eye, just said, “Thank you.” Mariana lowered her gaze. “I didn’t do anything special.” Ricardo took a deep breath. “You did a lot.
I don’t know how, but you did.” They sat in silence for a second. Mariana broke the moment. “Tomorrow I want to take you to the market. I want you to choose your food.” Ricardo hesitated. “To the market with people.” Mariana nodded. “Alive.” Ricardo didn’t say yes or no; he just left. That night the children slept without asking for stories.
Mariana covered them, kissed them on the forehead, and left the room without complaining of tiredness. Outside, the sky had cleared. There was a moon. The kind of night that feels different, even when nothing is happening, even when everything remains the same. But something moved inside, and that was enough to say that it was a different afternoon. The house had places no one entered. Mariana had already noticed.
There were locked doors, curtains that were never drawn, and rooms that not even the children mentioned. One afternoon, while the twins were taking a long nap after running around the garden, Mariana took the opportunity to clean up a little on her own. She went up to the second floor and began checking a hallway she had never walked all the way through.
There she found a door that was different from the others. It was made of darker wood with an old-fashioned lock and a small, almost invisible sign. It said “Study.” The door wasn’t locked. It was only locked from the inside. Mariana pushed carefully, opened slowly. Inside, it smelled like something stored away for years. It hadn’t rotted, but it did smell like time had stopped.
It was a medium-sized room with a desk full of papers, a swivel chair, framed photos, and a coat rack with a sweater hanging on it. Everything was in its place as if someone still used it. On the walls were drawings made by children, some signed in crayon. For Mom, with love. Mariana felt a pit in her stomach.
Lucía was there, not in body, but in every single thing. There were photos of her with the twins as babies on the beach, in the garden of the house. Lucía was smiling in all of them; she looked alive, she looked happy. Mariana couldn’t help but lean closer. She touched a picture frame carefully, as if moving it might disturb something important. On the desk was a notebook.
It wasn’t a diary, but it had handwritten notes. Recipes, to-do lists, notes about the children. Mariana flipped through the pages carefully. One read, “Emiliano hates eggs, but he loves bread with cinnamon. Sofía prefers to be quiet, but draws everything she feels.” Mariana read it over and over again.
It was as if Lucía were still there, guiding her from a thousand miles away. She didn’t know how long she’d been in the room when she heard footsteps in the hallway. She quickly closed the notebook and took a step back. The door burst open. It was Ricardo. His eyes were hard, his mouth tight. “What are you doing here?” he said without shouting, but with a voice that hurt. Mariana swallowed. He was cleaning.
The door wasn’t locked, he just wanted to. Ricardo raised his hand. “Don’t touch this room.” Mariana wanted to explain, but he had already entered. She approached the desk, took the notebook, and put it in a drawer. Then she locked it. You don’t go in here. Period.
Mariana said nothing; she just left the room, her face flushed, quickly went down the stairs, and went into the kitchen. Chayo was there chopping onions. “What did you do now?” he asked in a tone somewhere between mockery and annoyance. Mariana didn’t answer. She just poured herself a glass of water. Chayo looked at her out of the corner of her eye. “You went into the study, didn’t you?” Mariana nodded without speaking. Chayo sighed. ”
No one’s gone in there since Lucía died, not even he dares to touch anything, but it seems like you’re bringing out everything he’d kept inside.” Mariana didn’t know if that was a reproach or an observation. She left the glass on the table and sat down. Her head was spinning. Lucía wasn’t alive, but she felt present in every corner, and that presence left no room for anyone else.
Ricardo was still tied to her, that was clear, but it was also clear that The children were beginning to loosen up, and he didn’t seem to know what to do with this change. That night, Mariana approached the twins while they were putting together a puzzle. She asked about their mother. Sofía looked down. Emiliano answered, “She was singing while she cooked.” Mariana smiled.
What was she singing? An old song, the one about the swinging elephants. Mariana began to sing it softly. Sofía looked at her. “Did you know it?” Mariana shook her head. “But I can learn it.” They sang for a while. Then she put them to bed, kissed them on the forehead, and when she left the room, she stood outside for a moment. The hallway was dark.
In the background, the closed door to the study could be seen. Mariana knew she shouldn’t go back in, but she also knew that that room wasn’t just full of memories, it was full of secrets. And sooner or later, those secrets would come out because Lucía was no longer there, but her shadow still ruled. That morning, Mariana went downstairs with the children after breakfast.
They were happy, laughing at something Emiliano had said about a cat he’d dreamed about. Mariana was holding their hands, one on each side. The kitchen smelled of freshly baked bread, and Chayo was in a better mood than usual. She’d even left the radio on softly. Everything seemed to be going well until a familiar, loud, commanding voice was heard from the hallway.
“And this happy scene,” said a thin, brown-haired woman, very dressed up for so early. She was wearing heels, a designer bag, and glasses that she elegantly took off. Mariana didn’t know her, but judging by the way the children stiffened, she knew she was someone important. Ricardo appeared right behind her.
“Adriana, you’re early,” he said with a smile that didn’t seem very honest. Adriana, Lucía’s aunt and sister, had heard of her, but hadn’t seen her in person. Sofía let go of Mariana’s hand and hid slightly behind her father. Emiliano remained still. Mariana felt the air chill for no reason. Adriana walked with firm steps toward the children. She kissed them both on the forehead, but they didn’t react.
Then she looked Mariana up and down. “And you’re the new nanny.” Mariana nodded. “Nice to meet you, I’m Mariana.” Adriana didn’t return the greeting; she just smiled halfheartedly. “Ricardo, can we talk in private?” He hesitated for a second. “Sure. Come with me to the office.”
Before leaving, Ricardo gestured to Mariana as if to say, “Calm down.” But she sensed he wasn’t. As soon as the office door closed, Chayo approached. “The storm came,” he said softly. Mariana didn’t understand. “Why are you saying that?” Chayo grimaced. “Adriana wants to manage this house. She always has, and she’s not going to like what you’re doing with the children.”
Mariana swallowed. She was just doing her job, nothing more. But Chayo was right. Adriana didn’t seem comfortable with her there. That same day, Adriana left the office again with Ricardo. She stayed in the house all day, wandering around as if she owned it. Mariana saw her go into the playroom, look through storybooks, or read the children’s clothes.
At lunchtime, she sat at the head of the table. Ricardo on one side, the children in front of her, Mariana at the other end. “They told me you cook now,” Adriana said, looking at her napkin. “Yes,” Mariana replied calmly. “Do you like it?” Adriana giggled. “Yes, of course.
Rich kids always like to play at being poor for a while.” Ricardo looked at her, annoyed. Mariana took a deep breath. She wasn’t going to get hooked. After lunch, Sofía wanted to draw, but Adriana said she had to change her clothes because they were all messed up. Emiliano wanted to play in the garden, but she said he could get sick from the damp.
Mariana didn’t say anything, but the children looked at her with faces like, “What now?” Later, Mariana went to find Ricardo. She found him in the study. He opened the door, looking tired. “Is everything okay?” she asked. Ricardo nodded. Adriana just comes to make sure everything is normal. Mariana looked at him. But things aren’t normal anymore; they’re better. Ricardo looked down.
That’s what bothers her. That night, after Adriana left, Ricardo went down to the yard where Mariana was picking up toys. He helped her without saying anything for a few minutes. Then, without looking her in the eye, he said, “She thinks you’re taking up a place that’s not yours.” Mariana stopped. “And what do you think?” Ricardo looked up.
“I don’t know, but the children need you, and that weighs more than any opinion.” That was the first time Mariana felt something was changing between them. It wasn’t just respect; there was something more, something Adriana wasn’t going to like. And she knew it because the jealousy wasn’t just about the children anymore; it was about everything Mariana was starting to stir up in that house. That Saturday dawned with a sort of resolve that invites you to go out.
Mariana woke the children up earlier than usual. She dressed them in comfortable clothes, sneakers, and packed a backpack with water, fruit, and cookies. Emiliano asked where they were going. Mariana just smiled. To a place they didn’t know well. Sofía raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. They went downstairs in silence. Ricardo wasn’t there.
According to Chayo, he had left for an early meeting. That gave Mariana space to move around. She walked with the children down the long hallway that led to the back of the garden. There was a gate there that was always padlocked. Mariana had seen that gate from the first day, but she had never She dared to ask. Until one afternoon, Emiliano told her in a low voice that there was something fun back there, that his mother
used to let them play there before everything else. The gate was rusty. Mariana reached into her pocket and took out a small, old key she’d found in a drawer in the tool shed. It fit perfectly. The click of the lock was soft, but in her head, it sounded like she was breaking a big rule. She opened it slowly. Sofía pressed herself against her side. Emiliano entered first. The space was a second, hidden garden,
wilder with tall grass, crooked trees, a half-broken wooden playhouse, a rope hanging from a branch, and an old swing, all covered in dry leaves. But there was something special in the air, as if something good had happened there long ago. “What is this place?” Sofía asked softly. Mariana crouched down in front of her. “It’s her place.”
You knew him better than anyone. Emiliano started running. Sofia stayed still for a few seconds and then followed. Mariana watched them play. There were no loud shouts, but there was laughter. Real laughter. The swing creaked, but it held. Emiliano climbed on first. Sofia pushed from behind. Mariana found an old bench and sat there. She scooped out the juices and placed them on a blanket.
It felt like a picnic inside a giant house. The children discovered a buried box and dug it out with their hands. It was full of toys soaked with time, but among them were photos, painted rocks, and cards with drawings. Sofia found one that said Sofia and Emy’s secret club. Mariana felt a lump in her chest.
“Can we rebuild the little house?” Emiliano asked. “Of course we can,” Mariana replied without thinking. Hours passed among branches, rocks, dry leaves, and low screams of excitement. Sofia found a broken doll and sat it in a corner of the little house. Emiliano placed a large rock as a seat.
Mariana fixed the roof with an old tarp she had in her backpack. It wasn’t perfect, but they wouldn’t get wet if it rained. In the middle of it all, they heard footsteps, firm footsteps. Ricardo stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the open gate. He walked quickly, his face serious. Mariana saw him coming, but didn’t move. Neither did the children. Ricardo looked at everything in silence:
the swing, the playhouse, the remains of the picnic. Then he spoke softly. “Who gave you permission to come in here?” Emiliano looked at him fearfully. Sofia lowered her head. Mariana stood up. “I brought you here. This place belongs to you, and you needed to go back.” Ricardo pressed his lips together, turned, and looked toward the large tree. There was a board carved with the children’s names.
Lucía made this place for them. He spoke almost without a voice. It was their secret corner. Mariana didn’t know whether to speak or remain silent. “And why did you close it?” she finally asked. Ricardo took a while to answer because it hurt me, because I couldn’t see him without thinking of her. Mariana looked at him directly, and they couldn’t forget her either if they were forbidden to remember her.
Ricardo stood still, then approached the tree, ran his hand along the plank, and sat on the ground. Emiliano approached her. “Daddy, can we come here every day?” Ricardo didn’t answer immediately, then looked at him. “Yes, but only if you take care of the place.” Sofía approached him and placed the secret club card in his lap.
Ricardo looked at it, smiled faintly, and put it in his jacket. That afternoon, no one mentioned the word “forbidden,” no one closed the gate. No one pretended that nothing had happened because that place full of dust and branches had brought something that hadn’t been felt in a long time: Freedom. That day, Mariana decided she wasn’t going to cook alone, not because she was tired, but because she already felt that cooking with the children wasn’t an activity, but a point of connection. What began on the 19th, the kitchen stayed with them for the rest of the year.
day. And that day she had a different idea. In the morning she went to the market, without asking permission. She told Chayo she would take the children, period. Ricardo wasn’t there. Neither was Adriana. Chayo snorted, but didn’t stop her. Mariana walked with the twins through the aisles of the San Ángel market. She let them touch, smell, and taste things.
They bought corn on the cob, sweet bread, fresh strawberries, Oaxaca cheese, and meat for enchiladas. Emiliano chose the tortillas. Sofía found a small bouquet of flowers that she wanted to take with her to pretty up the dining room. When they returned, Mariana let them help with everything. Sofía washed the strawberries as carefully as if they were jewelry.
Emiliano grated cheese and ended up with sticky fingers. Mariana cooked and sang an old cumbia that her mother played at home. The children didn’t know the lyrics, but they laughed when they heard it. Around 7, Mariana set the table, but not in the kitchen as usual. This time it was in the large dining room, the one no one used. She removed the old tablecloths and laid out the placemats the children had decorated with markers and colorful napkins.
In the middle was the small bouquet of flowers Sofía brought. The lighting was dim, the smell of hot food rising. Ricardo appeared just as she lit the last candle. He stopped when he saw all this. Mariana looked at him. “Are you staying for dinner?” He frowned as if the question was odd. “Here. Yes, with us.” Ricardo hesitated.
Then he saw Emiliano come out with the pitcher of water, Sofía arranging the forks, and nodded. The four of them sat down. Mariana served the enchiladas and explained what they had made. They had chosen all of this. Well, except for the cumbia. Sofía laughed. Ricardo took the first bite and remained silent. Mariana thought he hadn’t liked it, but he swallowed slowly and said, “It’s very good.
” Emiliano opened his eyes. Seriously. “Yes.” “Very good.” Sofía added more cheese to her enchilada. Dinner continued without tension. Ricardo asked simple questions. How had the market they’d bought been if they’d bargained? Mariana noticed he didn’t speak like a boss; he spoke like Papa, like a normal man.
At one point, Emiliano said, “Dad, do you remember when Mama made alphabet soup?” Ricardo put down his fork and smiled, but that smile was half sweet, half sad. Yes, he liked to hide words. He always wrote, “I love you in letters,” Sofía said. Mariana said nothing; she just listened. After the meal, they didn’t get up right away. Sofía wanted everyone to play a game. “Would you rather?” With silly questions.
“Would you rather have a clown nose or duck feet?” Ricardo laughed. Duck feet. Nothing better. Mariana had never seen him laugh like that. It wasn’t a laugh, but a genuine, clean sound, from someone who had forgotten how to laugh a long time ago. When the game was over, Mariana started to clear the plates, but Ricardo stopped her. “Leave it, I’ll help.” Mariana looked at him in surprise.
He was already carrying glasses to the kitchen. Sofia applauded as if it were a feat. Dad was washing dishes. Emiliano cheered him on. Ricardo, laughing, simply said, “Today everything is different, isn’t it?” And yes, it was, because that dinner hadn’t been planned.
It wasn’t an elegant dinner or a special event; it was just that: a dinner, a table, food made with love, simple words, but for that house, it was like a party. Mariana watched as Ricardo dried a glass with a cloth, as Sofia arranged the napkins, as Emiliano closed the table for dinner without anyone asking, and she thought that this moment, simple as it was, was just what that family needed to begin feeling that way.
Family, it all started on a Sunday, one of those slow days when no one is in a hurry for anything. Ricardo had gone for a run early. The children were busy in the playroom trying to build a fort with pillows. Mariana, meanwhile, decided to organize an old shelf in the second-floor hallway. Not out of obligation, she did it because she had the habit of tidying up what others had forgotten.
She removed dusty books, loose papers, and unframed photos. Behind a pile of magazines, she found a cardboard box loosely tied with a blue ribbon. It had no name or label. It was hidden between a broken encyclopedia and a cracked vase. The box didn’t weigh much. Mariana carried it to the utility room, placed it on the table, and opened it.
Inside were simple things: birthday cards, a child’s drawing, a small bag with buttons, and at the bottom, a spiral notebook. The cover was lined with black marker. Lucía, only mine. Mariana held it with both hands. Her instinct told her to close it, but something stronger told her to read it. She opened the first page.
The handwriting was pretty, with round, clean letters. Lucía wrote like she spoke, it showed. Nothing ornate, everything direct. The first paragraph said something superficial, vomiting up her first bit of pap. Then she talked about Emiliano and his habit of hiding things in his shoes. Mariana turned the pages. What she was holding wasn’t an ordinary diary; it was more of a kind of outlet, a space where Lucía jotted down what she couldn’t say out loud.
There were notes about Ricardo, some sweet, others not so much. One said, “Sometimes I feel like Ricardo is here, but he’s not. He looks at the children, but thinks about his work or about her.” Mariana didn’t understand who she meant by “her.” Was there someone else? Later, she found something that stopped her in her tracks.
A torn-out page, but with enough left to read. A piece. Adriana came again. She says she doesn’t want to separate us, but her gaze pierces me. I feel like she hasn’t let go of Ricardo, even though he swears it’s my imagination. Mariana closed the notebook for a moment and looked toward the door. No one opened it again. She began to read in more detail.
Lucía recounted happy moments with the children, recipes she wanted to try, phrases she didn’t want to forget, but there was also a lot of tiredness in her words, emotional exhaustion. Doubts. One line read, “My body hurts, but my head hurts more from thinking about everything I keep quiet.” And then, almost at the end, she found another key phrase.
If something happens to me, I hope someone understands what I couldn’t say out loud. Mariana closed the diary tightly. Her heart beat faster. It wasn’t gossip, it wasn’t morbid curiosity. It was as if Lucía were speaking to her from somewhere else, telling her something no one else had wanted to see. Mariana put the imaesitero diary in her backpack.
She decided not to say anything for now, not to Ricardo, not to Chayo, not to anyone. That night she couldn’t sleep well. Lucía’s words seemed to her as if they were her own. She began to see Adriana through different eyes. Every smile of hers seemed forced, every comment a disguise. And the worst part was that Ricardo didn’t seem to notice, or didn’t want to.
The next morning, Sofía found Mariana in the kitchen and told her she wanted to keep a diary like her mother’s. “How do you know she had one?” Mariana asked. “She once told me that when she was sad, she wrote and felt less alone.” Mariana swallowed, gave her a new notebook, and told her to do the same. Sofía smiled. “But I don’t want to write sad things.
I want to tell what I like about you.” Mariana didn’t know what to say; she just hugged her. But she wasn’t the same anymore. Something had changed. Now she knew that Lucía hadn’t died peacefully and that perhaps her death left more questions than answers. The diary didn’t say everything, but it did say one thing very clearly.
Lucía didn’t trust everyone around her, and Mariana was now beginning to understand why. Ever since Mariana read Lucía’s diary, something inside her wouldn’t leave her alone. She walked around the house with the same smile. She cooked, she played with the children. She listened to Chayo talk about her ailments, but inside she couldn’t stop thinking about what she had read, especially about that part of her, that woman she looked, named without a name, who seemed to always be nearby, even though no one spoke of it.
It wasn’t long before Adriana appeared again. This time she arrived with suitcases. “I’ll only be here for a few days,” she said in her typical dry voice. Ricardo didn’t protest; he seemed tired, distracted. Mariana wasn’t surprised. What did surprise her was the change in the children. As soon as they saw Mina Nesenta, their aunt became serious.
Sofía stopped talking to Mariana for a while. Emiliano became quieter. It was as if Adriana’s presence made them shrink. Adriana settled into one of the guest rooms, but she didn’t stay still. She paced back and forth as if inspecting everything. She commented on things without being asked. “This tablecloth is stained.”
“Children shouldn’t be allowed to run around the house. I don’t understand how Mariana has so much access to everything.” No one answered her, but the atmosphere was no longer the same. One afternoon, Mariana was in the library with the children. She was reading them a story when she heard someone talking on the phone from the hallway. It was Adriana. Her tone wasn’t her usual. She was upset. No, I can’t force it. Not yet.
It’s strange. Closer to her. Yes, the nanny. I told you it wasn’t just anyone. Mariana froze. It wasn’t her style to listen to conversations, but that low, nervous voice made her stay there without moving. Lucía found out. Of course she found out, Adriana said from the other side of the door. That’s why everything went to hell. That’s why she started writing things.
Don’t worry, no one will read that. Mariana put a hand to her chest. The diary. Was that what Adriana wanted to hide? She closed the storybook, kissed the children, and left with an excuse. When she got to the hallway, Adriana was gone; all that remained was that suspicious silence that someone leaves when they have just hidden something.
That night, Mariana couldn’t shake the doubt. She looked for Chayo in the kitchen. She poured her tea and sat down across from her. “Did you know if Lucía suspected Adriana?” Chayo looked at her as if she had asked him the most dangerous question in the world. He didn’t respond immediately. “You? Why are you asking that?” Mariana shrugged. “It’s just a doubt.” Chayo lowered his voice.
“Look, I’m not going to put my hand in the fire for anyone.” But Lucía was smart. She saw things others didn’t. Mariana moved a little closer. Things like Chayo looking at her made it seem like Adriana wasn’t just coming to see the children. She came for Ricardo. Mariana didn’t need any more. Her stomach churned, she began to put things together: the constant visits, Lucía’s discomfort in the diary, the interrupted sentences, everything pointed to the same thing.
Ricardo and Adriana had had something at some point, maybe before Lucía, maybe during, and Lucía knew it. The next day, Mariana went with Ricardo, found him in the garden reading some papers, and sat down next to him bluntly. You and Adriana had something. Ricardo looked at her sharply. What? Don’t lie to me, just tell me the truth. He closed the papers.
It was before Lucía, long before. We were young. It happened once. It wasn’t serious, but Adriana never completely let it go. Mariana stared at him. Lucía knew. Ricardo lowered his gaze. Yes. And it hurt a lot. Mariana swallowed. She didn’t know whether to feel anger or compassion. “And why did you let her stay in the house?” Ricardo rubbed his face.
“Why is she the children’s aunt? Because I feel guilty. Because I don’t want any more problems.” Mariana stood up. “Well, the problems are already here, and they’re disguised as family.” That night, Mariana looked through the diary again. She reread that sentence. “If something happens to me, I hope someone understands what I couldn’t say out loud.” Now she understood.
You don’t check, but with the instinct of someone who no longer believed in appearances. In that house, there were many lies hidden behind family photos, and not all of them came from outside. Some had lived inside for a long time. That night, the house was silent, but a different kind of silence. It wasn’t tense or sad. It was as if everything were on hold.
The children had fallen asleep quickly after a long afternoon playing with a cardboard box that Sofia had turned into a castle. Emiliano made a sword out of a spoon. Mariana played background music while they played and didn’t rush them to bathe or eat dinner. They fell asleep on the couch watching a dragon movie. Ricardo carried them to their room, didn’t say anything, just put them to bed, covered them up, and went downstairs with Mariana to the kitchen. She was cleaning up the remains of dinner.
There were a couple of dirty plates, a pot of rice stuck to it, and a glass with half a glass of juice. Ricardo grabbed a towel and started drying it without her asking. Mariana stared at him as if she saw something strange, but said nothing. “Are you okay?” he asked without looking at her. “Yes, my head’s just full,” he replied while rinsing a spoon. “Because of the diary.” Mariana stopped.
“Did you know Lucía kept one?” Ricardo nodded very slightly. “I saw her write once, but I never knew how much she put in there. I never asked her.” Mariana turned off the faucet. The water stopped running. Only the clock hanging on the wall could be heard. Tick, tick, tick. She had many doubts, Ricardo, a lot of sadness that wasn’t visible to the naked eye. And she didn’t trust everyone.
Ricardo put down the towel, leaned on the counter, and lowered his head. He wasn’t upset, he just looked exhausted. “I wasn’t the best husband,” he said without raising his voice. “Sometimes I locked myself in work, sometimes I didn’t see what was in front of me, and now I’m afraid to repeat it.” Mariana moved a little closer. She didn’t know whether to speak or not, but something in her pushed her. ”
You’re not repeating it, you’re trying.” You’re here. Ricardo looked at her. She looked back at him. There was no music, no pretty words, no special lights. Just that rare moment when two people spend more time looking at each other than they should. He took a step. She didn’t move. The kitchen became smaller, more intimate.
Ricardo reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Mariana swallowed. Her heart was beating so hard she thought she could hear it. “May I?” he trailed off. Mariana nodded and went in. A kiss that wasn’t out of the ordinary, nothing exaggerated, just his lips touching hers. Warm, true, the kind that doesn’t seek to impress, only to connect. When they broke apart, Mariana lowered her gaze.
Ricardo too. They both smiled faintly. “I don’t know what that was,” Mariana said. “Me neither,” Ricardo replied. They stood there for a while longer without speaking. Then she went back to the sink and washed the last dish. He grabbed his jacket and waved goodbye. “Get some rest, Mariana, you too.” That night Mariana sat on the edge of her bed, not knowing what to think. It wasn’t love yet.
It wasn’t a soap opera story, but there was something, something real, something that could no longer be ignored. A kiss doesn’t change everything, but it says a lot, and that one said exactly what neither of them dared say out loud. Adriana didn’t give up. That morning, she entered the kitchen without permission, carrying a tray of expensive cookies.
She sat down at the dining room table, shook out her napkin, and placed them in front of Chayo and Mariana. “A little something for everyone,” she said in that cold voice of hers. Mariana looked at her but said nothing. Chayo rolled his eyes silently. Adriana got up and went straight to Ricardo’s office. Mariana and Chayo watched her walk by. The tension was evident. A minute, two passed.
Then Adriana came out with an envelope in her hand and handed it to Chayo. “Please, give it to the boss when he’s alone.” Chayo put it away without looking. Half an hour later, Ricardo appeared and found the envelope on his desk. He opened it and took out some printed photos. They were of Mariana, one with the children at the market, another in the kitchen, and one more of him and her walking near the garden. Photos that someone had carefully taken. Ricardo frowned.
Adriana came in and stood firm. “I want to warn you about something, brother, and it’s better that you hear it from me than from someone else.” Ricardo looked at her. “About what?” Adriana left the envelope next to the photos. About Mariana. He opened the photos and looked through them, not understanding. “What do you mean?” Adriana remained silent for a second, as if measuring her temperature. “They say this woman has a complicated past.
Do you know what they say in the town where she lived? Let me show you something else.” From the tray, she pulled out newspaper clippings and social media screenshots. They said vague things. Possible fraud. Nanny fired for contempt. Large house sold by her without any real context. Mariana appeared pointed out in those images. Ricardo looked up furiously.
This isn’t true. Adriana pushed the evidence onto the table. Do you believe it or not? But I’m warning you, because if this blows up, you’ll be in the middle. You’ll lose custody of the children, your prestige, everything. Mariana appeared in the office without anyone noticing. She listened to every word. Her world was crumbling.
Ricardo saw Mariana standing there, his muscles tensed, and he looked at the papers, then at her. “Is that true?” he asked. Mariana shook her head. “No, never. I don’t know who said that.” She looked vulnerable. Ricardo turned to Adriana. “Where did you get this?” She lifted her chin. “Wanted. It’s on the internet.” Ricardo grabbed some papers and began burning them with a lighter. Adriana opened her mouth to say something, but he interrupted her. “
This doesn’t matter to me. Do you understand?” Adriana said nothing, just took a deep breath and left without looking back. She walked firmly, her heels clicking against the tiles. Mariana left the office. Ricardo met her at the door. “I’m sorry,” he said in a tired voice. Mariana looked at him and tried to compose herself. “I won’t let you down.”
Ricardo hugged her and for the first time spoke as a father and as a partner. I believe you. That hug wasn’t about work, it was about family. What Adriana did not only sowed doubts, it also activated something inside Ricardo, the need to protect those he loves. And Mariana, without saying another word, knew it and felt that Adriana’s move would not go unchallenged. That night Mariana didn’t eat dinner.
She wasn’t hungry. She sat in the utility room with her head against the wall and her eyes fixed on nothing. Her back hurt, but her heart hurt more. Not because of the photos or what Adriana had said; she had already experienced that. What hurt was seeing how everything she had built with the children could crumble in a second, just because of what someone else decided to say about their lives. Ricardo didn’t insist. He
left her alone, but asked Chayo to bring her some tea. Mariana barely touched it. At midnight, she knocked on Ricardo’s door. He opened it with a From tiredness. Speechless, Mariana came in and sat on the couch. So did he. There was silence for a few seconds. Then she spoke. Yes, I had problems, but not like they described. Ricardo just listened. I had a younger brother named Miguel.
When we were children, he got very sick. My parents didn’t have any money. Sometimes we ate every other day. I took care of him. I made him soup with water, rice with air. One day he fell asleep and didn’t wake up. Ricardo swallowed. Mariana continued. It wasn’t my fault, but they judged me. They said I neglected him, that I didn’t do enough. I was 14.
Ricardo, what could I do? That’s where it all came from. The anger, the guilt, the way people see me. I left town. I changed my name for a while. I worked cleaning houses, taking care of children, always with the idea that I could help someone else. Since I couldn’t help Miguel, Ricardo didn’t know what to say.
Mariana looked at him, her eyes moist. And that’s it. I’m not a danger. I’m not a thief, just someone who’s had to start from scratch many times. Ricardo stood up, paced around the living room, then approached. And why are you telling me now? Because I don’t want him to tell you, Adriana. I want you to hear it from me. Ricardo crouched down in front of her, took her hands.
Thank you. That night, nothing else happened. There was no kiss, no hug, no caresses. Just two people who looked at each other with respect, with truth. Two people who no longer had secrets from each other. The next day, Ricardo didn’t allow Adriana to come down to breakfast with the children. He asked her to leave.
He told her she was no longer welcome if she came to sow doubts. Mariana learned this from Chayo, but didn’t ask any more questions because now she had let go of what she was carrying. And for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel guilt, only relief. After Ricardo confronted Adriana and she left that morning, something changed in the mansion.
It wasn’t just an awkward silence anymore; now there was tension in the air. Mariana felt it with every step she took through the hallways. Enemies, with every glance Chayo threw her from the kitchen, with every gesture the children made as they looked at her before going to sleep. Ricardo returned to being the close father, but also more serious. He was careful with every word. Sometimes when he spoke to Mariana nearby, he would whisper a little, not to hide, but to contain.
Mariana noticed it again when she decided to talk to Sofía in the playroom. Sofía looked at her and simply said, “Aunt Adriana just left.” She didn’t ask why, she didn’t say, “It’s great that she left.” She simply stated a fact and remained silent. She was a child, but she understood more than anyone thought. Chayo was increasingly defensive. He looked at her with a questioning expression.
He asked her what she was doing in certain rooms. Questions that barely sounded like whispers and reached Mariana’s ear. She answered calmly and continued on her way without pausing. But that sound of nails on glass as Chayo cleaned windows was like a silent judgment. The exchanged glances began. Ricardo and Mariana wanted to talk at the same time, but held back.
At the dining room table, plates were filling with hot food, but no one said much. One night, Sofía asked why no one was talking about Mamá anymore. Ricardo tried to give a straight answer, but got stuck halfway. Mariana filled the silence. We can talk whenever you want.
Ricardo looked at her and smiled as if to say, “Thank you.” Days passed without Adriana returning. What they thought would bring calm actually brought more questions. Mariana found a rolled-up letter in one of Lucía’s books that had been forgotten. She opened it. It was incomplete, but it said something like, “I don’t trust him when,” and it cut off. Mariana felt she was no longer just a newbie in the house, she was someone else.
Someone who knew what had been left behind in the corners. One day, while the children were playing in the garden, Ricardo sat with Mariana on the grass. His hand sought hers. He didn’t want to talk, he just needed to feel. Mariana squeezed his fingers. She was thinking about all of that too. The diary, the letters, the glances, the suspicions that no one spoke out loud, but that floated around every corner.
At night, when they turned on the dining room lights for dinner, Chayo didn’t appear. Mariana went to the kitchen and found her cleaning a plate. She approached. “Is something wrong?” Mariana asked. Chayo didn’t answer right away. Then he said, “Just cleaning so I don’t think.” Mariana understood it wasn’t about her, it was about everything that was happening, and she also understood that each person there was experiencing their own earthquake.
That same week, Emiliano accidentally broke a glass while playing. When Mariana went to hug him, he stepped back and shouted, “Don’t do it!” With that small, broken voice, Mariana stopped. The glass was left lying among pieces of glass and juice. Ricardo came running. Sofia began to cry. There was chaos, but it all happened quickly. Mariana cleaned up.
Ricardo picked up the boy. Sofia hugged her brother, and then a deep silence followed. Ricardo looked at Mariana. “We don’t want this,” he said. “I know.” He replied, “But this is part of what we must heal.” Mariana nodded, and again that conversation remained just between them. No one said anything out loud, but it was all there.
That night, before going to sleep, Mariana sat for a while next to the twins. She told them that everything was going to be okay and told them a simple story, without morals or lessons, just a made-up story about a pair of siblings who, although they sometimes doubted each other, always loved each other. The children heard her fall asleep. When she walked down the hall, she crossed paths with Ricardo. The two looked at each other.
They knew they were in this together. The tension hadn’t disappeared. The suspicions continued to loom, but now there was something more, an alliance, a bond that couldn’t be seen, but that was strengthened by the shared truth, the confessed fears, and the small certainties they were building step by step.
Nothing was perfect, nothing was resolved, but at least now they knew what they had to face, and that idea, for the first time, made them feel they could handle anything. That Friday started off very busy. Mariana was the first to get up. She packed their backpacks the night before, but still double-checked everything three times.
She put the sandwiches in bags, packed juice, cookies, a change of clothes just in case, and sunscreen. The children were excited. They were going to the zoo with the school. It was their first school trip since Lucía died. Ricardo had an early meeting, but before leaving, he bent down to Sofía and Emiliano’s level. He adjusted their backpacks, kissed them both on the forehead, and looked at Mariana.
Thank you for coming with them. She just nodded with a smile. She knew Ricardo wasn’t saying it out of obligation. He truly trusted her. The bus was already parked at the school entrance. Mariana arrived with the children, and they lined up with their group. The other children were excited, jumping, and talking loudly. The twins huddled close to Mariana, as if the noise made them feel awkward.
The teacher in charge, a kind-eyed woman, greeted Mariana with a relieved smile. Thank you for coming. Sometimes they get nervous with so much noise. Mariana understood everything with just that phrase. The bus ride was long. Sofía sat by the window. Mariana in the middle, Emiliano on the other side. They didn’t talk much. They watched the landscape go by. Every so often, Mariana pointed something out.
A castle-shaped shop, a house with a flower-filled garden. Emiliano half-smiled. Sofía took out her notebook and began to draw trees. When they arrived at the zoo, each group got off in a single file with their guide. Mariana was with them the whole time. At first, Emiliano wouldn’t let go of her hand. Sofía walked with short steps,
looking around. It wasn’t fear, it was something more. As if they didn’t already feel part of it, they went to the giraffe area, then to the exotic bird area. Mariana bought them ice cream. The day progressed peacefully until it was time for lunch. The groups separated. Mariana sat at a table under a palapa with the children and two other mothers.
While she opened their backpacks, she noticed Sofía was acting strange, very quiet. She didn’t want to eat. Emiliano looked at her but didn’t say anything. Mariana leaned over. “It’s fine, Sofía.” The girl shook his head. Mariana placed her hand on his. “Do
you want to go to the bathroom?” Sofía just looked at her, her eyes shining. Mariana understood instantly, got up with her, and led her away from the group. Sofía sat on a bench and burst into tears. Mariana crouched down to her level and said nothing. She waited. When the girl was able to speak, she said in a low voice, “We came here with my mom.” Mariana felt a knot in her chest. She brought us and told us that the bears were our uncles. Mariana laughed softly. “
And the tigers were our cousins,” the girl replied with a wet smile. Emiliano came running. “It’s okay.” Mariana hugged him. “Yes, we only remember beautiful things.” Emiliano sat next to his sister. I also remembered the photo with the elephants. Dad has it on his desk. Mariana hugged them both loosely. She
just held him, and the three of them stood there in silence with the noise of the zoo in the background and memories floating between them. The rest of the day was more mellow. Mariana bought them some animal-shaped bracelets. Sofia chose one of a turtle. Emiliano, one of a lion. Mariana didn’t want any. “I am the guide. You are the explorers.”
The children smiled. On the way back, they both fell asleep leaning against Mariana, one on each side. She covered them with their jackets and looked out the window. She thought about everything that can’t be said with words, about everything that is healed just by being, truly being. When they got home, Ricardo greeted them at the door.
Mariana got out first, then the children ran to hug him. He picked them both up at the same time. “Did you behave?” “Yes, but it made me sad,” Sofia said. Ricardo looked at her seriously. “Why? Because I remembered Mom.” Ricardo swallowed. “I remember her a lot too.” Mariana just watched. Ricardo looked up. “Thank you for everything, Mariana.” She smiled.
Nothing more was needed. The school trip hadn’t just been a trip, it was a test. And although no one said it out loud, they knew that Mariana wasn’t just the nanny; she was the person who knew how to carry tears, laughter, and memories without breaking down. The atmosphere in the mansion was tense as never before. Adriana had returned unannounced.
Mariana saw her in the living room standing by the antique piano looking at family photos. She had her arms crossed and a cold smile. Ricardo appeared at her side with a hard look. Everything foreshadowed a storm. Adriana spoke first without saying hello. “I just came to finish what I started.” Ricardo looked at her without saying anything.
The children were hidden in the hallway, but they could hear. Mariana stood between them and Adriana to protect them. Adriana laughed a little. “The children won’t understand, but you will.” She looked Mariana in the eye. “I brought something that will make you run.” Ricardo approached. Adriana took out an envelope and threw it on the floor in front of him.
Photos, documents, old bills with Mariana’s signature. A mix of accusations, supposed unpaid debts, denied bills, false references. Mariana felt a hole form in her stomach, but she took a deep breath; nothing she couldn’t handle. Ricardo carefully picked up the envelope. The tension was cut like a knife. Adriana watched them, satisfied.
“My papers?” Mariana asked in a firm voice. “Now you want to listen.” Adriana nodded. “I got all this from a private investigator. They say you lied on your resume, that you stole documents, and that asking for money is part of your habit.” Mariana shuddered and covered her mouth as she listened. She knew what he was saying sounded serious, but she refused to let it define her life.
Ricardo lowered the envelope, looked first at Mariana, then at Adriana. He was confused. He seemed to want to protect Mariana, but he also wanted proof. “Is it true?” he asked in a low voice. Mariana shook her head. “No, it’s all lies, forgeries.” Ricardo looked up, searching her face for any sign. He found nothing. His hand was trembling.
Adriana took a step forward. You have to believe me. I didn’t want it to come to this, but I warned you. Mariana didn’t back down. Her legs went limp, but she remained steadfast. You know nothing about me. You don’t know what I’ve been through. You have no right to ruin my life with lies. The house was silent. Only the clocks ticked away.
Ricardo placed the envelope on a nearby table. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them, his voice was clearer. If all of this is a lie, we’re going to prove it. He looked at Adriana. Who made this invention? She just looked at him with contempt. I don’t care. What matters is that you were warned. Ricardo interrupted her.
I’m not going to act on vague warnings. I’m going to investigate. And as long as there’s no proof, I won’t believe any of this. Mariana felt a weight lifted. Ricardo shook her hand. You’ll have my support. She could barely smile. The children left slowly, holding hands. Sofia approached Ricardo and handed him a flower.
Travel luggage, but simple. He received it and kept it close to his heart. Emiliano hugged Mariana. “I’ll never let you go,” she said softly. Mariana stroked her head. Never. Adriana took a deep breath and stepped down toward the children. “They don’t know what they’re up against.” Ricardo interrupted her firmly. “
Neither them nor you.” Adriana hesitated. Then she turned without saying goodbye and left the house. Mariana and Ricardo stared at the door closing. There was no joy or complete relief. There was a tense calm like before a storm that has ended. But there was also something else, a silent promise.
That night Mariana would stay to talk with Ricardo, and the next day the real truth would begin. Not the rumors or lies, the truth they could build together. The next morning started with a different air. The sun entered the living room windows, but it didn’t warm because there was something dense in the air. Mariana sat on the sofa near Ricardo’s office, holding Lucía’s diary in her hand. It was no coincidence.
She had to talk. She knocked on the door. Ricardo opened it without saying anything. They crossed. glances. He was trembling a little, as if he didn’t know what to say first. “I found something else,” Mariana blurted out bluntly. “There’s evidence in the diary that Adriana and you had something going on.” Ricardo swallowed, closed his eyes for a second, then opened them and sat down opposite her.
Mariana handed him the diary, open at a page. You could see Lucía’s signature and those cut-out sentences. Adriana was coming that night. Ricardo wouldn’t let go of it. He didn’t trust her. It was underlined in red. Mariana waited. Ricardo read it slowly with his thumb. Then he closed the diary and left it on the table. “Yes,” he said in a trembling voice. “It was a mistake from the past.” I was confused. Mariana looked at him without blinking. Lucía knew.
Ricardo nodded. Yes, he wrote about it. He said it hurt to see him close by. Mariana felt her heart clench. And you never told me. Ricardo lowered his head. I didn’t know how to tell you. I thought if I buried it, it wouldn’t weigh any more. I was wrong. The living room fell silent. The children listened on the other side of the door.
Sofía clutched the flower she had given him earlier. Emiliano hugged his shirt. They said nothing, but they occupied every part of the room. Mariana breathed. This isn’t the worst of it, she said softly. The worst was what happened next. Ricardo looked up. She continued. In the diary, I found a page with numbers.
It was a bank account in Adriana’s name. There’s a line that says, “I pay for the favor you did me.” Ricardo put his hands to his face. Yes, it was before the trip. He helped me with an import deal. It was something that got out of control. Mariana understood. “Did you pay for a favor?” Ricardo nodded, embarrassed. Yes, but I don’t regret it.
I did it under pressure because she wanted to have power again. Mariana closed her eyes for a moment. Lucía knew it, she said firmly. And it killed her inside. Ricardo didn’t know what to say. He put his hand to his chest. I have so much to ask of you. Mariana interrupted him. First, I want you to tell me if you love me for me.
Not for what you might have to prove. Ricardo looked at her without blinking. Yes, I love you and I don’t want to lose you. That was enough. Mariana opened her arms. Ricardo approached and hugged her. They stood there for a while, as if the hug would serve to vent all that they hadn’t said. And then the sound of soft footsteps. The children appeared:
Emily with her stuffed lion, Sofi with her turtle. Ricardo put them both down and encouraged them to hug Mariana. There were no words, just slow, sincere, unhurried hugs. The imaginary camera of the story captures everything. Tears, silence, a family reassembling itself right where it had been most broken.
That moment wasn’t a grand finale with star-studded music; it was a small, great beginning. The truth had come out with all its weight, and that truth, though, opened the door to something greater: forgiveness, trust again, and, above all, letting go of ghosts. The morning started calmly, but it felt different. Ricardo wasn’t in his office, so Mariana decided to wait for him in the living room with Lucía’s diary open on the coffee table.
The children played nearby with wooden blocks, but occasionally looked up. Sofía arranged a block and asked without looking up. “Will you be okay, Mariana?” She smiled and nodded, but her heart was pounding. Ricardo came in, paused for a second upon seeing him. Without further ado, he sat down across from Mariana and didn’t speak.
She looked at it and then picked up the first newspaper clipping she’d taken out. “Look at this,” she said softly. It was another fragment of that paper. She’d pulled it out carefully so as not to tear it. It said something Lucía had crossed out with a red pen. “If he kisses me again like that time, I’ll know he never left me.” Mariana placed the clipping in front of Ricardo. He took a deep breath. His face hardened.
He was afraid to know what was coming. Mariana felt it. “This confirms what I told you. She knew it.” Ricardo lowered his gaze and held the clipping between his fingers as if it weighed heavily in the palm of his hand. She keeps it in her diary because it hurt her. Mariana wanted to speak, but she let him continue. The silence stretched. Then Ricardo looked up. ”
This isn’t just a blurry memory. This is something that marked Lucía and marked us too.” He paused, swallowed. “I’m beginning to understand why she changed so much before she finished her sentence.” Mariana leaned closer. “You don’t have to keep silent anymore.” Ricardo looked into her eyes and saw in those eyes the strength he needed.
On her birthday, he began, his voice hoarse. Mariana held her breath. That day, Adriana showed up with a cake and excuses. Lucía told me later that she felt betrayed. She didn’t understand why Adriana stayed around, because I let her in. Mariana nodded. It was clear that every word was a burden.
Ricardo stood up and walked to the window. He looked out at the garden. I never saw it as something serious. I saw it as the past speaking. I thought I could handle it, but she felt it like an open wound. She lowered her hand and took a chair. She sat near Mariana. And the worst part was that I remained silent because I didn’t know what to say. Mariana came closer and took his hand.
He closed his eyes for a second, as if trying to keep from breaking down. “Love, I know,” she said very gently. You didn’t have the words, but that doesn’t mean the wounds had healed. Ricardo looked at her, feeling the weight of everything he hadn’t said. Then he opened his eyes, took a deep breath, and said, “When Lucía died, I felt free and guilty, free of the constant tension between the two sisters, guilty for not having spoken when I needed to most.
” Mariana squeezed his hand. He added, “And today it seems I’m speaking for the first time.” The children listened nearby without moving. Sofía approached and placed her hand on Ricardo’s shoulder. “Dad,” she said softly; that word shook him. He leaned over and hugged her. “Sofi.” Sofía nodded. Without letting go. Emiliano joined in. Ricardo hugged all three of them.
Mariana brought them together. A family embraced in the center of the room. There were no grandiloquent words, no eternal declarations, just that long embrace where each person shared something. Sofía dropped the plastic flower she had brought. Ricardo closed his eyes and held it against his chest. Emiliano rested his face on Mariana’s chest, and there, in the truest silence, Ricardo discovered that the truth, when it comes, doesn’t come with blows; it comes calmly and with a hug that speaks volumes, without speaking. That day, he discovered many things he
had allowed to happen—lies, things he had unwittingly hurt—but above all, he discovered that he could still love, trust, and start over. Today, he and his family discovered that the next step wasn’t erasing the past, but learning to walk with it. And that, although it doesn’t sound epic, was exactly the truth they needed. The morning already brought a different energy.
Ricardo took the children to breakfast and then asked to speak to Mariana in the living room. She sat calmly, although her heart was beating rapidly. He closed the door, took a deep breath, and said, “Today we need to get everything straight.” Mariana nodded without speaking, looking at him firmly. It wasn’t long before Adriana arrived back at the mansion.
This time she didn’t enter with that cold demeanor. She was serious, her gaze on her shoes. Everyone noticed. Chayo immediately went down to the office. Mariana followed him with her eyes. Adriana entered and went straight to the living room where Ricardo was already sitting with the children.
There were no photos, no bribes, no excuses, just forced calm. Ricardo looked at her straight. We’re ready. Adriana tensed, sat elegantly in an armchair, crossed her legs, and took a deep breath. Mariana was just off to the side, holding Sofia’s hand. Emiliano was standing nearby, neither moving nor speaking. Ricardo let Adriana begin. “I only wanted the best for you.”
Mariana looked at her with wide eyes. “What did you want?” Ricardo asked. She hesitated. “I thought Mariana wasn’t what you needed.” The room fell silent. Not even the children breathed loudly. Mariana took a step forward. “Not what we needed,” she repeated slowly. Adriana looked at her. ”
I was informed that you could be a negative influence. Your photos, the statements.” She didn’t complete the sentence. Ricardo pointed his gaze at her. “And that gives you the right to spy, to spread lies, to come to my house and destroy.” Adriana began to tremble. “It was never meant to cause harm, only to destabilize.” He interrupted her. “Yes,” she admitted in a whisper.
Yes, because it hurt you to see that they were fine without me. Because you didn’t want to lose what you thought was only yours. Mariana listened with her heart in her throat. She didn’t try to speak, but she didn’t remain silent. What gives you the right? Adriana looked at the children, who remained staring. “I’m their aunt,” she said, “but I’m not a mother, and that difference is what you could never accept.” Ricardo stood up.
“We decide who’s here and who brought lies. He’s leaving.” Adriana blurted out a “I’m alone.” She couldn’t finish. Ricardo looked at her, sadly yet firmly at the same time. “Go, don’t come back,” he indicated the exit with his gaze. After a heavy silence, she stood up on the threshold and paused.
She turned to look at the children, took a breath, and left without saying goodbye. The door lowered with a soft creak, like an unheard farewell. Mariana felt the air in the room change. The children let go. Sofía approached first. She hugged Mariana, then Ricardo. Emiliano cried a little. Ricardo hugged them both. He said nothing. Finally, there was no more talking.
A minute later, Mariana came out slowly, approached Ricardo, took his hand, and squeezed it. He returned the calmest smile she had seen in weeks. The children were putting away their plates. No one spoke, but everything was so clear now that it wasn’t necessary to say a single word.
Adriana had come clean without lies, without photos, without manipulation, and after the scare, the family breathed again with the certainty that what happens inside that house is decided inside, not outside. The house finally breathed calm. After so much, the days seemed normal. The children played without fear. Mariana smiled without guilt, and Ricardo drank his coffee in silence, without the tense face he had worn for weeks. Everything was as it should be.
Until suddenly, Mariana began to notice something strange, something small. Ricardo became distant. He wasn’t rude or cold, but he no longer sought her gaze like before. He no longer touched her hand out of habit, nor did he laugh when the children said nonsense. Mariana let it go for a day or two. She thought it was tiredness, that he just needed space, but on the third day she approached his office and heard a knock. ”
Yes, I know, but I can’t continue this if you keep pressuring me,” Ricardo said in a low voice. Mariana didn’t move; she stayed behind the door, not wanting to hear any more, but she listened. “No, I haven’t told him, because if I tell him, he’ll leave, and I don’t want him to.” When Mariana entered, Ricardo hung up quickly. His face changed when he saw her. Mariana stared at him. “What’s going on?” Ricardo swallowed. He didn’t know where to start. “It’s something I didn’t plan.”
It has nothing to do with you or the children. Then say it. Mariana asked calmly, although inside she felt her heart pounding. Ricardo sighed. “Lucía’s will.” Mariana remained still. “What about the will?” Ricardo stood up and paced around the office. Lucía left a clause.
She said that if I were to remake my life with someone else within three years of her death, I would lose full administration of the children’s estate. Not the money, not the house, just legal control. And that, Adriana would take over. Mariana felt as if someone had pulled the floor out from under her. “Are you telling me that if we stay together, you’re giving Adriana power over your children?”
Ricardo nodded silently. There was nothing else to say. Mariana didn’t scream, didn’t cry, she just turned and left the office. That day she didn’t have dinner with them, didn’t read stories, didn’t go upstairs to put away toys, she locked herself in her room and sat in front of the window. She thought about leaving.
She thought maybe that was the right thing to do, that no one had to choose between love and their children. The next morning, Ricardo waited for her in the kitchen. Mariana came downstairs with tired eyes. He approached. I don’t want you to go, but I’m not going to allow Adriana to touch my children, not even by mistake. So, then, I don’t know, but I can’t lose them. Not them, not you.
Mariana remained silent. Do you know what’s worse than losing something, Ricardo? Having everything and doing nothing to preserve it. Ricardo lowered his head. The next few days were strange. She didn’t leave, but she wasn’t the same either. She became quieter, more practical, less like Mariana and more like the nanny she had been at the beginning. The children noticed.
Emiliano got angry with Mariana for not playing. Sofía stopped reading him stories. Chayo just watched her without interfering, but everyone knew something had broken until Sofía walked into Ricardo’s office one night and said something that disarmed him. Dad, if Mariana leaves, I can go with her too. Ricardo froze. Sofía hugged him.
Ricardo held her tight and understood that the final obstacle wasn’t the will, it was fear, and if he didn’t face it, he was going to lose everyone. And that night he finally decided what he was going to do. Not with words, but with actions, because sometimes that’s the only way to fix everything that words can’t reach.
Sofía found the letter folded inside her sketchbook. It hadn’t been there the night before. The sheet of paper was plain, written in blue pen. Her name was written in large letters. With a heart next to it, she recognized it instantly. It was from Mariana. He sat down on his bed and unfolded it carefully, as if it were something fragile, as if just touching it could break it. Emiliano watched her from the other bed. In silence.
She didn’t say anything. She waited. Sofia began to read in a low voice. Hello, Sofi. If you’re reading this, it’s because I might no longer be home. Not because I want to leave, but because sometimes adults have to make decisions that even they don’t understand, and that hurts, but it doesn’t mean I love you any less.
Sofia felt her throat close, lowered the page for a second, swallowed, and continued. Since I arrived, you and Emiliano taught me things that no one else had taught me. You taught me to be patient, to laugh again, to play like when I was a child. You taught me that love doesn’t have to be perfect, just sincere. Every time you silently held my hand, I understood how brave you are.
Every time you asked me a difficult question, I knew how smart you are. And every time you hugged me without saying anything, I understood that I was no longer alone. Sofia’s eyes were full of tears, but she continued reading. Emiliano sat down next to her without asking permission; he just stood there looking at the page with her. I don’t want you to feel sad. I’m not leaving because I want to.
I’m leaving because there are things in this house that still need fixing, and sometimes for things to get right, someone has to take a step back. But that doesn’t erase anything of what we’ve experienced. When my brother died, I thought I could never love anyone again. And then you all appeared and made me feel like my heart wasn’t broken; it just needed a little tenderness. Sofía let out a sigh she didn’t know she was holding.
Mariana was still there on that page, on every line. I don’t want you to forget me, not you or Emy, because I’ll never forget you. And if one day you need me, look for me. I promise I’ll be there, even if it’s just to make pancakes or look at the stars from the garden. Sofía slammed the page shut and hugged her to her chest. Emiliano put his hand on her shoulder.
They didn’t speak; there was no need for that. That afternoon, Sofía came downstairs with the letter in her hand. Ricardo was in the living room, staring into space. He saw him and ran toward him. He handed her the letter without saying anything. Ricardo took it and read it silently. When he finished, he remained still. Then he pressed the letter to his chest. “Where is it?” he asked softly. ”
I don’t know,” Sofia said, “but she left because she thought it was for the best.” Ricardo stood up. His face changed completely. There was no more doubt, no more fear. Ricardo stayed by Sofia’s side for a few more seconds, contemplating the letter. Then he lowered his gaze and hugged her gently. She leaned back and rested her head on his chest. Emiliano approached and hugged all three of them.
It was a silent moment, wordless, but full of emotion. Shortly after, Ricardo looked for Mariana. It didn’t take long. He found her in the kitchen washing dishes. He stopped in the doorway, observing her gently. She looked at him nervously. He didn’t say anything about that letter, just took her hand. “I want you to know that I won’t let you go,” he said slowly. She smiled with tears in her eyes.
“I don’t want to leave you,” she replied. They hugged right there, between the dishes and the sink. When they separated, Ricardo kissed her forehead. Mariana felt that everything they had suffered was worth it. That night, after putting the children to bed, they sat in the garden. Ricardo took out a new piece of paper and a pen. He asked Mariana to hold it.
Out loud, he wrote a letter to Sofía with the words of a father and a partner. How much they appreciate her. How much will they care for her? How much are they willing to fight to stay as a family? Mariana helped him fold it. He put it in an envelope and wrote, “To my brave Sofi.” They kept it in a special drawer in the living room where only they knew it was.
When Sofía and Emiliano found the envelope in the morning, they both opened it together. They read it with shining eyes. In the end, Sofía ran to hug Mariana and Ricardo at the same time. Emiliano let out a soft laugh and said, “These guys really know how to make it beautiful.” And that afternoon, while they were playing, Sofía hung a bracelet on Mariana’s mirror with the word “family.”
Mariana took it, looked at it, and bowed her head. Ricardo approached and placed his hand on it. The four of them were together again with the promise that no one would ever separate them. Mariana’s letter had done something important. It allowed Sofía to understand that sometimes adults make difficult decisions, but that behind everything there is always an enormous amount of love.
And that certainty, that clear smile, and that bracelet hanging on the mirror closed one of the most uncertain chapters of their lives and opened another full of hope. The day Mariana left, she didn’t say anything to the children, only leaving the letter for Sofía and a hug waiting in the kitchen.
She left quietly, with her backpack on her back and her eyes full of tears. There had been no fight, no scandal, just a decision she made with a heavy heart. Ricardo didn’t find out until he went down to breakfast and Chayo told him Mariana wasn’t there. He looked for her in the kitchen. In the utility room, in the garden. Nothing. Then he found her letter, not one for him, but for the children. At that moment, he knew he couldn’t stay still.
“Where did she go?” he asked. “To Chayo.” “No,” she replied, shrugging. “She just thanked me and asked me to watch the children.” Ricardo kept the letter in his hand. He went up to the children’s room. Emiliano was sitting on the bed, hugging his pillow. Sofía looked out the window. No one was crying, but the silence weighed heavily. Ricardo approached. ”
Let’s go look for her.” Emiliano raised his head. “Seriously.” “Yes, but I need your help.” Ricardo went to the study, opened his computer, and searched through old emails. He remembered something Mariana had told him once: that she worked in a cafe before moving into the house, one that smelled of freshly baked bread and played rancheras all day. “That was enough,” she said. He called five places. No one knew her.
On the sixth try, a voice said, “Yes, Mariana, she just came back. She’s at the bar. Tell her you’re looking for her.” Ricardo remained silent. Then he said, “No, just tell her someone’s on their way.” He put on his jacket, grabbed his keys, and ran downstairs. The children were already waiting for him with backpacks. They didn’t want to miss a moment. The café was in a modest neighborhood.
The tables were wooden, the tablecloths checkered. Mariana was pouring coffee when she saw them enter. Her heart stopped, and she froze with the pitcher in her hand. Ricardo said nothing; he walked up to her. The children ran first. Emiliano hugged her around the waist. Sofía cried into his chest. Mariana wrapped her arms around them both.
She couldn’t speak; her breathing was shallow. Ricardo stood still, then he leaned closer. He touched her hand. “You shouldn’t have left. I thought it was the right thing to do,” she replied, still holding the children. “But it wasn’t what we wanted, neither them nor I.” Mariana burst into laughter mixed with tears, the kind that only comes out when everything breaks and is fixed at the same time. I thought you’d have a hard time choosing. I have no doubts now.
In the cafeteria, no one interrupted, no one looked at her in a funny way. The owner, a woman in a flour-stained apron, watched them from the kitchen with a smile. Ricardo took a piece of paper out of his pocket. It was a copy of the will. He had crossed something out with a red marker. “It doesn’t matter what this says anymore, I’d rather lose everything than lose you.”
Mariana hugged him, closed her eyes, and finally breathed in peace. That afternoon, the four of them returned together. In the car, the children talked nonstop. Mariana laughed. Ricardo watched them in the rearview mirror. No one mentioned the past, only the return. And although there was one more chapter to go, in that moment they all knew they had finally found what they needed most: to be together.
Without fear, without conditions, without hiding. The sun shone through the windows, and the four of them sat in the living room. There was no rush, no nerves, just a back, a hand, a smile. Ricardo had a bouquet of yellow flowers, some that Sofía loves, and a large envelope.
Mariana looked at it silently, her heart like a drum. The children were at her side, excited, curious. Ricardo breathed. “This is for you, love.” He handed her the bouquet. Mariana took it, smelling it without covering her face. “They’re for you,” he told her. Mariana smiled with tears in her eyes.
Meanwhile, Sofía and Emiliano opened the envelope, took out a ring, and looked at it as if it were a treasure. “New candy,” Emiliano asked in amazement. Ricardo approached Mariana again. He knelt down without drama. The children began to shout. “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy.” He raised his voice so only Mariana could hear. “Mariana, will you marry me?” Mariana was silent for a second, but the children filled it all out. Sofía let out a scream.
Emiliano ran to hug her. Mariana hugged him back, turned around, and saw Ricardo on his knees, smiling. “You know I do,” she finally replied. She leaned down and hugged him. The ring fit on his finger. The children celebrated with jumps and shouts while the two of them remained embraced. It seemed like an impromptu party in the mansion’s living room, but with more tenderness than anyone imagined possible.
After a while, Ricardo stood up, took Mariana’s hand, and said, “With your permission,” he looked at the children, took advantage of the fact that his eyes were big, and it was sealed. “Yes, we can form a real family.” Sofia jumped. Emiliano shouted yes. They hugged all three of them and kissed them. Then they went out to the garden, a different place where they had baked cookies, laughed, hugged, and cried. Ricardo put his arm around Mariana’s shoulder.
“This is where I want to start over,” she said, pointing at the garden and smiling. The children ran free among the flowers as Mariana and Ricardo looked on, holding hands, their rings sparkling in the sun. They didn’t make toasts or make speeches; they just stood together, watching the wind rustle the leaves.
It was an ending, yes, but also a beginning. The beginning of something that was ordered with simple words: love, trust, family. And so, just like that, this story ends. There are no fireworks or grand promises, just a kiss on the forehead, the distant sound of children laughing, and the certainty that this truly is a new beginning.