You don’t have a home and I don’t have a mom,” the little girl told the homeless young woman at the bus stop.

Isabel la Morales staggered on the sidewalk barefoot on the snow that melted between her fingers. The Beige lace dress she had worn to the company’s Christmas dinner now made her tremble uncontrollably. Her hands were still shaking from the push of Ramón, her stepfather, when he tried to touch her again. “Please just let me get my shoes,” he pleaded banging on the wooden door.

“There’s nothing of yours in this house,” he shouted from inside. You should be grateful for everything I did for you after your mother died. The snowflakes were falling denser now. Isabela wrapped her arms around her torso, the cold cutting off her breath. 3 years.

3 years. I had endured the stares, the CVAs, the comments, the inappropriate jokes. But tonight, when Ramón cornered her in the kitchen after a few too many drinks, she couldn’t take it anymore. Her numb feet led her instinctively toward the bus stop, where she waited each morning to go to the dance academy. The metal and glass shelter looked like a palace at the time.

He plopped down on the bench, snuggling up against the icy wind. Miss, is that okay? Isabela looked up. A little girl, no older than 10 years old, watched her with brown eyes full of concern. He wore a gray wool hat, a red coat that was too big for him, and worn military boots.

In his hands he held a crumpled paper bag. “Yes, I’m fine,” Isabela lied, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. The girl gave it her head, studying it with disturbing maturity. It doesn’t seem to be right. He is shaking and has no shoes. What are you doing here so late? Where are your parents? A sad smile crossed the child’s face. I don’t have parents. Well, I had a mom.

But he went to heaven 3 years ago. Now I live in different houses. Isabela’s heart sank. Foster care. The girl lived in the foster care system. And you? The little girl asked. Where do you live? Isabela felt a lump in her throat. The words came out before I could stop them. I don’t have a home.

The girl nodded as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He walked over to the bench and sat down next to Isabela, opening his paper bag. “Here,” he said, splitting a sandwich in half. “It’s good, Mrs. Carmen gave it to me this morning. I can’t accept your food. Why not? I have and you don’t have. That’s how things work.” Isabela took the piece of sandwich with trembling hands.

It was ham and cheese, simple, but delicious, after not having eaten all day. What’s your name?, Esperanza García asked, but everyone calls me espe. And you? Isabela, only Isabela. Esperanza studied it with those eyes too wise for her age. You know what, Isabela? What? You don’t have a house and I don’t have a mother, he said with devastating simplicity.

But now we have each other, even if it is for tonight. Tears ran freely down Isabela’s cheeks. This girl, who had lost so much, was offering him what little she had. His heart, which had been closed by pain and betrayal, began to crack. Wait, I, listen.

A male voice interrupted them. A tall man was approaching from the street. with dark hair covered in snow and an expression of genuine concern. He wore medical scrubs under a black coat. “Are you okay?” he asked, stopping a few feet away. “It’s too late and too cold to be out here.” Isabela instinctively tensed, hugging hope tighter.

“Men don’t approach women on the street out of kindness. They always want something. We’re fine, he replied in a firm voice, although his blue lips said otherwise. The stranger frowned, noticing Isabela’s bare feet and the age of hope. I am Dr. Mateo Ruiz. I work at the San Rafael children’s hospital, right there.

He pointed to a building two blocks away. I’m getting off my night shift and sorry, but they can’t stay here. The temperature is going to drop to -10 degrees tonight. Are you a children’s doctor? Esperanza asked curiously. I am a child psychologist. Yes. So, help sad children. Mateo smiled softly. I try to do it.

Isabela watched the exchange, her protective instinct on high alert, but also recognizing something genuine in the man’s voice. Esperanza looked relaxed and that girl had a radar to detect dangers. “Look, doctor,” Isabela began. I thank you for your concern, but we, us, Mateo interrupted her gently. They are family. Isabela and Esperanza looked at each other.

They had shared more honesty in the last 20 minutes than Isabela had with any adult in years. We are Isabela, she searched for the words. We are two people who need each other. He completed hope with that wisdom. disturbing. Mateo studied them for a moment longer, making a decision that would change everything.

My apartment is a five minute walk away. It has heating, hot food and a sofa bed. Mm. You can stay until tomorrow until we find a better solution. Why would he do that for us?, Isabela asked suspiciously. Mateo pointed out to Esperanza that she had begun to tremble despite her coat.

Because she’s a girl and you’re barefoot in the snow and because sometimes doing the right thing is the only option you have. The snowfall intensified and Isabela felt hope curl closer to her. What alternative did Isabela really have? Esperanza whispered. I think we can trust him. Isabela closed her eyes, feeling the weight of a decision that could save or destroy them completely.

Isabela opened her eyes slowly, confused by the heat that enveloped her body. It wasn’t the cold humidity of the bus stop bench, but the soft embrace of a woolen blanket. He sat up discovering that he was on a beige couch in an unfamiliar living room, where memories of the night before came like an avalanche. Ramón, the snow, hope. The doctor.

Good morning. Isabela turned sharply. Mateo Ruiz was in the kitchen making coffee, dressed in jeans and a gray T-shirt. The morning light streaming in through the windows revealed a modest but cozy apartment. Books piled up everywhere, pictures of smiling children on the walls, plants in need of water.

Where is Esperanza? Isabela asked, getting up immediately. Sleeping in my room. I left the bed for him because he insisted that the couch was for you. That girl has more manners than many adults. Isabela relaxed slightly, but kept her distance. Listen, Dr. Ruiz, Mateo, please, Mateo. I thank him for what he did last night, but we can’t stay.

I don’t want to cause you problems. He poured two cups of coffee and walked over, leaving one on the table in front of her. What kind of problems? Isabela avoided his gaze. You don’t know me. He doesn’t know what I’m capable of. I know he protected an unknown girl in a snowstorm.

I know he’s college-educated by the way he speaks. And I know that something terrible happened to her last night because no woman goes out barefoot in the middle of winter for pleasure. The words hit Isabela like punches. She wrapped herself more in the blanket, feeling the vulnerability like an open wound. I am not his responsibility. he is right, but Esperanza was not his last night either and he still took care of her.

Before Isabela could answer, the bedroom door opened. Esperanza emerged with her hair tousled and one of Mateo’s sweaters that reached her knees. Isabela ran to her. I thought you were gone. I’m not going anywhere without you, little one. Matthew watched the exchange with something that looked like admiration.

Esperanza, have you had breakfast? No, but I can wait. I’m used to it. The girl’s casual response caused something to break in Isabela’s chest. No 10-year-old should be used to being hungry. I’m going to prepare scrambled eggs for everyone, Mateo announced. Esperanza, can you help me set the table? Yes.

As she watched them work together in the kitchen, Isabela studied Mateo more closely. He was three-something, he calculated, with soft hands that spoke of a job that did not require physical strength. His apartment had diplomas on the wall. Psychology Complutense University of Madrid, specialization in child psychology.

Gregorio Marañón Hospital. It was real. He was really a psychologist. What do you do, Isabela? Mateo asked as he served the eggs. He worked, he corrected. She taught dance in a small academy. He also studied therapy through movement. Do you like working with children? Isabela looked at Esperanza, who was devouring her eggs as if she hadn’t eaten in days.

I like to help people find ways to express themselves when words aren’t enough. That’s beautiful, Esperanza said with her mouth full. Can you teach me how to dance? Of course. The doorbell of the apartment interrupted the moment. Mateo frowned. I don’t wait for anyone. He went to the door and looked through the peephole.

She is an older woman with a folder. He says that he is from the child protection service. The face of hope turned pale. It’s Carmen, my social worker. Isabela felt immediate panic. They are going to separate her from hope. they are going to take her away. How did he know you were here? Whispered.

I reported my location last night, Mateo explained. It is protocol when a minor is involved. Esperanza grabbed Isabela’s hand tightly. I don’t want to leave. You’re not going to leave, Isabela promised, though she had no idea how she was going to keep that promise. Mateo opened the door. Carmen Vidal entered.

A 45-year-old woman with gray hair, pulled back in a bun and eyes that had seen too much childhood suffering. Drctor Ruiz, Esperanza. His gaze fell on Isabela. And you are Isabel Morales. Carmen studied the scene. Esperanza clinging to Isabela, the breakfast dishes, the blanket on the sofa. Hope, are you okay? Yes, Carmen. Isabela took care of me last night. Where is your current host family? Esperanza looked down. I left.

You ran away. Why? The girl looked at Isabela looking for strength. Mr. Vargas looked at me strangely as the men who came at night looked at my mother. The silence in the room was deafening. Carmen closed her eyes as if she had expected something like this.

Did he do something to her? No, but I knew he was going to do it, so I left. Isabela felt a burning fury in her chest. This girl had been in danger and had to save herself alone. “I have to take her to a safe place,” Carmen said. “There is a family in Seville who don’t!” shouted Esperanza. “I don’t want to go to Seville. I want to stay with Isabela.” Hope.

Ms. Morales is not qualified for What do I need to qualify? Isabela interrupted. Carmen looked at her in surprise. She’s serious, completely serious. Ms. Morales. Foster care requires a thorough evaluation, background check, financial stability, adequate housing. I can get a job, I can find an apartment.

How? Where are you going to live in the meantime?” Mateo cleared his throat. He can stay here while we sort out the paperwork. Everyone looked at him in surprise. Dr. Ruiz, that’s not a temporary emergency arrangement. I’m a registered respite provider for special cases. I can monitor the situation while Isabela completes the application process.

Carmen frowned, clearly assessing the situation. Do you know Ms. Morales? I met her last night, but in 15 years working with children I have developed a good instinct for evaluating caregivers. Isabela risked her own safety to protect Esperanza.

That tells me everything I need to know about her character. Isabela looked at him in amazement. Why was he defending her? Why was he risking his professional reputation for a stranger? Carmen looked at Esperanza, who was holding Isabella’s hand like a lifeline. Esperanza, do you really want to stay with Isabela more than anything in the world? And do you feel like you’re safe here? Yes, Isabela protects me and Dr. Mateo is good. I can feel it.

Carmen sighed, pulling some papers out of her folder. Okay, but this is temporary, very temporary. You have 72 hours to prove that you can provide stability, Isabela. If not, Esperanza is going to Seville. Understood. Carmen went to the door, but stopped.

Esperanza, why didn’t you tell me about Mr. Vargas before?” The girl shrugged. No one would believe me. Adults never believe children about these things. Carmen crouched down to her level. I do believe you and I’ll make sure you don’t go back there ever again. After Carmen left, the three of them fell silent.

Why did you do that, Isabela asked Mateo. Why did you risk your career for us? Mateo sat on the couch looking suddenly tired. My younger sister was in foster care when our parents divorced. She was separated from us for six months because no family member was deemed temporarily suitable.

Those six months marked her forever. Where is she now? She died in a car accident 5 years ago, but before she died she made me promise that I would never let a child go through the system alone if I could help it. Isabela felt something changing in her chest, a warmth that had nothing to do with the blanket or the coffee. Thank you, don’t give them to me yet.

We have 72 hours to make this work. Esperanza, who had been listening quietly, suddenly smiled. 72 hours is a long time. We can make it work. His optimism was interrupted by the ringing of Isabela’s phone. He pulled it out of the bag he had rescued the night before, frowning. At the sight of the number.

Who is it?, Matthew asked. Isabela felt her blood freeze in her veins. Ramón, my stepfather. The phone kept ringing, the sound cutting through the air like a threat. Isabela knew that if she answered everything they had built in the last few hours she could fall apart, but she also knew that if she didn’t answer, he would find another way to get to her.

And this time he had much more to lose. Isabela let the phone keep ringing until it stopped. Her hands trembled as she put it back in her bag. “Who is Ramón?” asked Esperanza with that disturbing intuition she had to detect dangers. No one important lied Isabela, but Mateo studied her with the eyes of a psychologist trained to detect lies.

Isabela, if there’s anything we need to know to protect Esperanza, there’s nothing, it’s lonely and complicated. The phone rang again. This time Isabela turned it off completely. Okay, Matthew said softly. But remember that you don’t have to face problems alone anymore, as if you were part of something now, as if you belonged somewhere.

Over the next three days they developed a strange, but comforting routine. Mateo went out to work in the mornings. Isabela looked for a job in the afternoons, while Esperanza was in the temporary school that Carmen had gotten. And in the evenings they cooked together and helped hope with the chores.

It was in those night moments that Isabela began to see Mateo really, the way she listened to Esperanza talk about her day without ever interrupting, how she remembered small details, such as that Esperanza liked hot chocolate with extra cinnamon, the infinite patience she showed when the girl had nightmares about her mother. “Why did you decide to work with children?” Isabela asked him one night while they were washing the dishes.

Children do not lie about what they feel. We adults build masks so elaborate that we sometimes forget who we really are underneath them. Isabela felt a knot in her stomach. His mask was so obvious. And your mask? Mateo smiled sadly. We all do. I pretend that saving other children can bring my sister back.

Brutal honesty hit him like a fist. Isabela stopped washing the plate in her hands. Mateo, it’s okay. Therapy has helped me accept it, but I think that’s why I recognize the pain in others. Yours, for example. Their eyes met on the foam-filled sink and something electric flashed between them. Isabela felt her breathing quicken. Not me, Isabela, Mateo, come quickly.

The urgent voice of hope from the room broke the moment. They ran to her, finding her pointing at the TV with wide eyes. On the screen, a reporter spoke in front of a building that Isabela immediately recognized, the company where Ramón worked.

Arrested this morning for embezzlement of funds worth an estimated 2 million euros, Ramón Heredia, 48, has been accused of diverting money from employee pension funds for the last 4 years. Isabela plopped down on the couch, the world spinning around her. “Is that your stepfather?” asked Matthew.

Isabela nodded, unable to speak. What does this mean?” asked Esperanza. “Does it mean that the man who kicked Isabela out of her house is a thief,” Mateo explained carefully. Isabela’s phone, which she had turned back on that morning, began to ring frantically. Text messages appeared one after another on the screen.

“Bitch, this is your fault. If you talk to the police, I swear I’ll ruin your life. No one is going to believe you. You are a kept without a job. I’m going to find you. Mateo read the messages over Isabela’s shoulder, his face hardening. Isabela, this is harassment. We have to report it. We can’t. If I get involved with the police, they will investigate my situation. They are going to discover that I don’t have a home, that I don’t have a stable job.

They’re going to take away hope, but you can’t let it threaten you. Yes, I can. For hope I can endure anything. Esperanza came over and took Isabela’s hand. That bad man is going to come for you. Isabela felt tears itching in her eyes. I don’t know, little one. So, shall we leave? What? We’re leaving.

You and I can go somewhere else where he won’t find us. Hope is not that simple. Yes, we have been good all three nights. We can always be fine. Mateo sat down in front of them. Or we can face this together. Isabela looked at him surprised. Matthew, you don’t understand. Ramon is not just an angry man, he is dangerous.

And now that she’s desperate, then all the more reason not to face it alone. Why would you do that? Why would you risk your safety for us? Mateo reached out and gently touched Isabela’s cheek, because in three days you two have become the most important people in my life. Isabela’s heart stopped. In his eyes he saw something he hadn’t seen in years. Absolute honesty.

Matthew, you don’t have to say anything now. Just don’t run away. Not again. Before Isabela could answer, the doorbell of the apartment rang. The three of them tensed up. “We’re waiting for someone,” whispered Esperanza. Mateo shook his head, cautiously approaching the peephole. “It’s Carmen and there’s someone else with her.” Isabella felt immediate panic.

“Ramón, she is not a blonde, elegant woman.” Mateo opened the door. Carmen entered, followed by a woman in her 30s in an expensive suit and a smile that did not reach her eyes. Dr. Ruiz, I’m sorry to bother you so late. This is Lucía Mendoza, director of the Child Welfare department. Isabela felt the ground open up under her feet.

A principal did not come personally unless something was very wrong. Miss Morales,” Lucia said in an ice-cold voice. We need to talk about what? About the accusations that have been brought against you. What accusations? Lucía took a folder out of her briefcase. According to the anonymous tip we received this afternoon, you have a history of mental instability, substance abuse, and erratic behavior.

The complainant suggests that he represents a danger to the well-being of the minor. Isabela felt the walls closing in around her. That’s not true. None of that is true. The complainant provided medical documentation suggesting otherwise. What documentation? I have never been in psychiatric treatment. According to these records, he was in therapy for severe depression and self-destructive tendencies last year. Mateo approached.

Can I see those documents? Lucia hesitated. they are confidential. I am a licensed psychologist. If they are going to base a custody decision on medical documents, I have the right to review them professionally. Reluctantly, Lucía handed him the papers. Mateo quickly checked them, his brow frowning more with each page.

These documents are forged. Sorry. The dates do not coincide. The diagnosis codes are incorrect and this medical seal pointed out a mark on the paper, this hospital closed its doors two years ago. Isabela nodded a mixture of relief and terror. Ramón, he falsified medical documents.

Who is Ramón? Lucia, her stepfather, asked, the same man who was arrested today for embezzlement. Carmen and Lucía exchanged glances. The man who made the complaint is the same one who was arrested today. It has to be him. He’s the only person who would hate me enough to do something like that. Lucía closed the folder slowly. This changes things considerably.

However, Ms. Morales, regardless of the veracity of these documents, you still do not meet the minimum requirements for temporary custody. What do I need? Stable housing, verifiable employment, and completion of the Foster Parent Preparation Course. How long does that take? Six to eight. Isabela felt her world fall apart. He was not six weeks old.

Ramón would find a way to destroy it much sooner. However, Lucia continued, given the extraordinary circumstances and the clear manipulation by the complainant, I am willing to extend the temporary placement for two more weeks. That will give you time to establish basic stability.

And then, hope will be transferred to a certified family until you complete the process if you decide to continue. Esperanza, who had been quiet throughout the conversation, finally spoke. I don’t want to go with another family. I want to stay with Isabela forever, little one. No! He shouted running towards Isabela. I’ve already lost a mom, I can’t lose another.

Tears streamed down Isabela’s cheeks as she hugged Esperanza. You won’t lose me, I promise you. How can you promise it? Adults always lie. Because I love you, hope. And when you love someone, you fight for them no matter what. Mateo came over and put a hand on Isabela’s shoulder. And because she is not alone in this fight.

Lucía and Carmen observed the exchange with softened expressions. Two weeks, Miss Morales, Lucia repeated, use that time wisely. After they left, the three of them stayed hugging each other on the sofa. Esperanza had fallen asleep between Isabela and Mateo, emotionally exhausted. You really think we can make this work, Isabela whispered.

I think it’s already working, Mateo replied, looking at Esperanza asleep. We just need to get the rest of the world to see it too. Isabela felt a warmth expanding in her chest. For the first time in years she didn’t feel completely alone, but in the back of her mind she knew that Ramon wouldn’t give up easily and the next time he attacked he would be more desperate and more dangerous. Isabela’s phone vibrated with a new message. Two weeks.

That’s all you have before it destroys everything you care about, starting with that psychologist you think can protect you. Isabela quickly deleted the message, but fear had settled in her stomach like a cold stone. Ramon knew where she was and now he knew exactly how to hurt her more.

A week later, Isabela had gotten a job as a therapy assistant at the clinic where Mateo worked. It wasn’t a lot of money, but it was a start. Esperanza had started smiling more, she had even made a friend at school named Ana. Everything seemed to be fitting together perfectly, too perfectly.

Isabela was organizing files at the front desk when an elegant woman walked into the clinic. Perfectly combed brown hair, designer suit and a smile that Isabel immediately recognized as that of someone used to getting what she wanted. Excuse me, I’m looking for Dr. Mateo Ruiz. He has an appointment. I don’t need an appointment. I am Lucía Herrera, his ex-fiancée.

Isabel felt as if she had been punched in the stomach. Exprofiede. Matthew had never mentioned an ex-fiancée. One moment, please. Isabela marked Mateo’s extension with trembling hands. Matthew, there’s someone here to see you. He says it is Lucía Herrera.

The silence on the other end of the phone lasted so long that Isabela thought the call had been dropped. Matthew, tell him to come down in 5 minutes. When Mateo came down, his face was pale, but controlled. Lucia got up with a beaming smile. Mateo, my love. Lucia, what are you doing here? I can’t visit the man I was going to marry.

Isabela pretended to be busy with the files, but every word stuck in her chest like a knife. We finished 8 months ago. We both made mistakes, but I’ve had time to think and I’ve missed you. Mateo looked at Isabela, who quickly averted her gaze. Lucía, it is not the place or the time for this conversation.

So let’s have dinner tonight like in the old days. I can’t, I have responsibilities. You mean that woman and the girl? Isabela felt her blood run cold. How did Lucia know about them? It’s not your problem, Lucia. Of course it’s my problem, Mateo. Baby, I know you have a good heart, but this is different. You can’t save everyone.

I’m not trying to save anyone. No. So what is this? A homeless woman with a child who is not hers. It’s exactly the same pattern you had with me. You always put your patients before us. Isabella stood up abruptly. I’m going to check the supplies in the warehouse. But before he could escape, he heard Lucia’s voice clear and calculated.

Matthew, do you really believe this is love or is it just your savior complex again? Isabela closed the door of the warehouse behind her and leaned against the wall, struggling to breathe. He was right, Lucia. It was just the Salvador de Mateo complex. Everything I had felt between them was a lie. His phone vibrated.

A message from an unknown number. Nice clinic. It would be a pity if something happened to the good doctor for getting involved where he shouldn’t. Isabela quickly deleted the message, but it was too late. Ramón had escalated his threats. it was no longer just against her.

When he left the warehouse, Lucia had left, but Mateo was still at the reception looking disturbed. Isabela, you don’t have to explain anything to me. Your personal life is not my problem. Yes, it is, because you are part of my personal life now. Isabela felt tears itching in her eyes. Am I or am I just another rescue project? How can you ask that? Because your ex-fiancée is right. You’ve been saving me from the moment we met.

Food, shelter, work. Have you ever stopped to wonder if this is real or just your need to help? Mateo approached, but Isabela backed away. Isabela, what I feel about you has nothing to do with mom. Isabela. Esperanza burst into the clinic running towards Isabela with tears in her eyes.

Carmen came behind her looking stressed. What happened?, Isabela asked, kneeling to hug Esperanza. Mrs. Carmen says I have to go. He says that there is a family in Barcelona that loves me. Isabela looked at Carmen over her head of hope. I thought we had two weeks. We do, but an exceptional opportunity arose.

The Vegas are an experienced family. They have successfully fostered 12 children. They want to meet Esperanza this weekend. I don’t want to meet the Vegas. I want to stay here. Small hope. It’s just a visit. No, visits become staying. The same thing always happens. Isabela felt absolute panic. They were losing it.

Everything was falling apart. Carmen, please give me one more chance. I’m working. I have a place to live. Isabela, you know I like you, but the Vegas can offer immediate stability. Two parents, own home, private education. I don’t care about private education,” Esperanza shouted. “I only love my mom Isabela.”

Isabela’s heart broke completely when she heard Esperanza call her mom for the first time and I want you to be my daughter forever. But sometimes loving someone means doing what’s best for them, even if it hurts. Don’t say that, don’t say that, because it sounds like you’re giving up. Isabela looked at Mateo, who had been silent throughout the exchange.

In his eyes he saw guilt, doubt. Lucía had planted seeds of uncertainty and now he was questioning everything. I’m not giving up, Isabela said firmly. But maybe Carmen is right. Maybe the Vegas can give you things I can’t. All I need is you. Carmen cleared her throat uncomfortably. The visit is tomorrow afternoon. Hope. You’re going to go and you’re going to be polite.

Then we will decide what is best. That night Esperanza refused to have dinner. He snuggled up on the couch with Isabela, clinging to her as if she were going to disappear. Are you going to let me go with the Vegas? he asked in a very low voice. I don’t know, little one. I don’t know what the right thing to do is. I already know. The right thing to do is to stay together.

Why do adults complicate everything so much? Mateo walked over to the sofa. I can talk to you, Isabela. Privately. Isabela followed Mateo into the kitchen, her heart beating painfully. Isabela, about what Lucía said, was it true? You had a pattern of putting your patients before her. Matthew hesitated, and that hesitation told him all he needed to know.

I thought so, but with you it’s different. How do you know it’s different? Because when I look at hope with you, I don’t see a patient, I see a mother protecting her daughter. And when I look at you, I see my future. Isabela felt tears rolling down her cheeks. But what if Lucía is right? What if I’m just your way of dealing with guilt over your sister? Is that what you really believe? Isabela closed her eyes, feeling the weight of all her insecurities.

I don’t know what to believe anymore. Everything is happening so fast. Two weeks ago I was living on the street and now I’m thinking about adopting a girl and falling in love with you. Are you falling in love with me? The question came out like a whisper full of hope. That doesn’t matter. What matters is hope. For me it does matter. Before Isabela could answer, her phone rang.

The name General Hospital appeared on the screen. Say, are you Isabela Morales? Yes, I am nurse Martínez at the General Hospital. His stepfather, Ramón Heredia, has been admitted to the emergency room. It says you’re their emergency contact. Isabela felt the world wobble. What happened to him? He was assaulted in prison. Her wounds are not mortal, but he wants to see her. He says it’s urgent.

Isabela hung up the phone with trembling hands. What happened, Mateo asked. Ramón is in the hospital. He says he wants to see me. You’re not going. Maybe I should. Maybe it’s the only way to end this. Isabela is not a trap. And if he is not, and if he is really hurt and repentant.

After all the threats, Isabela looked at her into the living room, where hope waited, probably listening to every word. I can’t make clear decisions with him, constantly threatening me. I need to face it once and for all. So I’m going with you. No, if something goes wrong, Esperanza needs you here. Mateo gently grabbed her arm.

Isabela, whatever Ramón tells you, don’t change anything about us, please. Isabela looked into his eyes, etching his face into her memory. I love you, Mateo. Whatever happens, I want you to know that. I love you too. They kissed softly and desperately, as if it were the last time, because Isabela had a terrible feeling it might be.

An hour later, Isabela walked through the sterile hospital halls, heading toward a confrontation that could change everything. She didn’t know that at that very moment, Esperanza was in the room, silently crying because she’d heard every word and decided that if the adults couldn’t fix things, then she would have to.

Isabella entered the hospital room, her heart hammering against her ribs. Ramón was lying in bed, his head bandaged and one arm in a sling. He looked older, more fragile than she remembered. Isabela, you came. What do you want, Ramón? Please sit down. I’d rather stand.

Ramón sighed, a bitter smile crossing his bruised face. You were always stubborn like your mother. Don’t mention my mother. Your mother loved me, you know. She really did. But you, you always hated me. Isabela felt a familiar fury burning in her chest. I hated you because I saw the way you looked at her.

I saw how you waited for him to fall asleep to look at me. He was a lonely man. You were a predator, and when my mother died, you thought you could finally do what you always wanted. Ramón sat up slightly, his eyes flashing with something dangerous. You know what? You’re right. And I would have if you weren’t so resilient. Isabela’s stomach churned.

That’s why you kicked me out, because I couldn’t get what you wanted. I kicked you out because you were a constant reminder of my failure. Every time I saw you, I remembered that I couldn’t control you the way I controlled your mother. You’re sick, maybe, but here’s the thing, dear stepdaughter. Now I have nothing left to lose. Isabela felt immediate alarm.

What do you mean? I mean, I’m going to spend the next 10 years in prison thanks to that audit that was triggered after you left, and since I have nothing to lose, I decided you won’t have anything either. What are you talking about? Ramón smiled, his expression absolutely squealing.

I spoke with a very interesting reporter this morning. I told her a fascinating story about an unstable woman who kidnapped a child from foster care and is living with a psychologist who abuses his professional position. Isabel felt like the ground was falling out from under her. No one is going to believe you. I don’t have the text messages you sent me threatening me.

Oh, wait, I made those up, but I have witnesses who will say they saw them. What witnesses? People who owe me money. People willing to say anything to reduce their own sentences. Isabela gripped the back of her chair. Why are you doing this? What do you gain by destroying my satisfaction? The satisfaction of knowing that if I can’t be happy, neither can you.

At that moment, the door to the room opened. Carmen entered, followed by a woman Isabela didn’t recognize. “Mr. Heredia, I’m Detective Vargas. We have some questions about the statements you made this morning.” Ramón went pale. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Carmen approached Isabela. “We need you to come with us.”

I’m under arrest. No, but we need to talk. An hour later, Isabela was in a cold interrogation room with Carmen and Detective Vargas sitting across from her. Miss Morales, is it true you’ve been living with Dr. Ruiz and a minor in temporary custody? Yes.

And it’s true that he was homeless when he met the minor. Yes. Is it true that he threatened his stepfather via text message? No, he threatened me. I have the messages on my phone. Isabela took out her phone and handed it to the detective, who reviewed the messages with increasing interest. This is interesting.

The messages show a pattern of harassment by Mr. Heredia toward you. Exactly. He’s blackmailing me because he knows I’m trying to adopt Esperanza. Carmen leaned forward. Isabela, there’s something else you need to know. This morning, before Ramón spoke to the press, we received a call from someone else. Who? Esperanza. Isabela felt her heart stop.

What? She called my office this morning. She said she had important information about why you were kicked out of your house. Detective Vargas opened a folder. Esperanza told us about the threats, about how your stepfather had been harassing you, but she also told us something else. What did she tell us? That she overheard Ramón talking on the phone with someone about money, dates, places, names—details only someone involved in fraud would know. Isabela gasped.

Esperanza knew about the embezzlement. She didn’t know what she’d heard meant, but when we explained it to her, she realized I had information that could help you. Carmen smiled slightly. “That little girl loves you so much, Isabela, so much that she was willing to testify against an adult to protect you.”

Where is she now? At the clinic with Dr. Ruiz. They’re waiting for news. Detective Vargas closed your file. Miss Morales, based on the evidence we’ve gathered and Esperanza’s testimony, it’s clear you’ve been the victim of harassment and blackmail by your stepfather.

There will be no charges against you, and Ramón will face additional charges of harassment, blackmail, and obstruction of justice. Isabela felt tears of relief running down her cheeks. That means I can remain hopeful. Carmen sighed. Isabela, that’s for the judge to decide, but I can tell you that your willingness to submit to investigation, your hopeful testimony, and Dr. Ruiz’s recommendation will weigh heavily in your favor.

Mateo wrote a recommendation, a five-page one, very detailed, very convincing. Isabela smiled through her tears. I can see them now. Of course. But there’s one more thing. Carmen handed her another piece of paper. The Vegases withdrew their interest in Hope. Why? Because when Carmen called them to explain the situation, they said they didn’t want to separate a child from someone who clearly loves her so much.

Isabella felt her heart expand until it filled her entire ribcage. That means you have a real chance, Isabela, a real chance to be the mother Esperanza needs. Thirty minutes later, Isabela burst into the clinic where Mateo and Esperanza were waiting. The little girl ran to her immediately.

Isabela, are you okay? Did the bad man hurt you? No, little one, I’m more than fine. Isabel picked Esperanza up and hugged her tightly. “I heard you called Carmen this morning.” Esperanza blushed. “I knew the bad man was hurting you, and no one hurts my mom.”

Your mom is my mom of the heart, and moms of the heart are the best moms because you choose them. Isabela felt tears running down her cheeks. That means you want me to be your mom forever. Yes. And Mateo can be my dad of the heart. Isabela looked at Mateo, who had slowly moved closer. That depends on whether he wants to be part of our crazy little family.

Mateo smiled. That smile I had come to love so much. There’s nothing in the world I want more. They kissed above Esperanza’s head, who cried out, “That’s disgusting!” but laughed at the same time. Then Esperanza said, “This means I don’t have to go with the Vega family.”

It means we’re going to fight for you to stay with us forever and we’re going to live together like a real family. Isabela looked at Mateo, who nodded. Like a real family. And we can have a dog. Don’t overreact, little one,” Isabela laughed, but as she hugged Esperanza and felt Mateo’s arm around them both, Isabela thought that maybe they could have a dog, maybe they could have everything.

For the first time in years, the future looked bright, full of possibilities, and completely his. Somewhere in the city, in a hospital bed, Ramón Heredia fell asleep knowing he had missed his last chance to hurt Isabela. And in a small clinic in the center of Madrid, a nontraditional, but perfect, family began planning their future together.

Because sometimes the best families aren’t the ones you’re born into, but the ones you choose. Eighteen months later, the spring sun filtered through the windows of the small dance studio Isabela had opened in the Malasaña neighborhood. The walls were covered with mirrors and photographs of her students, children of all ages who had found in dance a way to express what words couldn’t. “Mama Isabela, look what I can do.

Esperanza, now 11 years old and with a smile that lit up the room, performed a perfect piroet in the center of the studio. “Amazing, my love, you’ve been practicing. Papa Mateo helped me last night. He says I have natural balance.” Isabel smiled at her when she heard Esperanza refer to Mateo as Papa Mateo.

The adoption had been finalized six months earlier, but for Hope, he had been her father since the first day he offered them shelter. “Where is your dad, Mateo, now?” Talking on the phone with Mr. Garcia about Ana’s adoption papers, Isabela felt a familiar warmth in her chest. Ana was an eight-year-old girl who had arrived at the center where Mateo worked three months ago.

His case had touched the family deeply, and after many conversations, they had decided to expand their home. The study door opened and Mateo walked in with his hair longer and a tired but happy smile. “How did the call go?” Isabela asked. “Good news. The final evaluation was approved.”

Ana can come home with us next week. Esperanza squealed with joy. I’m going to have a little sister. I have to teach her how to dance. Let’s let her adjust first. Okay? said Isabela, hugging her daughter. Remember how nervous you were at first, but we’re a real family now. We’ve always been a real, little family, ever since that night at the bus stop.

Mateo came over and put his arms around them both. “Do you know what day it is today? Friday,” Esperanza shouted. “No, something more special.” Isabela frowned, thinking, “The adoption anniversary, right? That was last month. Your birthday, no.” Esperanza brightened. The day we met exactly 18 months ago.

Okay, little detective. Mateo pulled a small velvet box from his pocket. Isabela felt her heart race. Mateo, Isabela, 18 months ago. Two people who needed each other found each other in the snow, and since then we’ve built something beautiful together—not just a love, but a family.

He knelt before her, opening the box to reveal a simple yet elegant ring. Isabela Morales, will you marry me? Do you want to make official what we already know in our hearts? Isabela felt tears running down her cheeks. Yes, yes, of course I will. Esperanza was jumping with excitement. We’re going to have a wedding.

“I can be the maid of honor. You are so much more than that,” Isabela said, hugging her. “You are the reason all of this is possible.” Mateo slipped the ring onto Isabela’s finger, and the three of them hugged in the center of the dance studio, surrounded by the golden light of the sunset. “You know what?” Esperanza said. “I think my mom in heaven would be happy to know I found a new family.” “Why do you say that?” Isabela asked.

Because before she died, she told me I’d always find people who would love me, I just didn’t know what she was going to do so soon. Isabel squeezed Esperanza tighter, remembering that brave little girl who had shared her sandwich on a snowy night. “What are you going to do now that you’re getting married?” Esperanza asked.

“We’re going to continue being exactly who we are,” Mateo said. “A family who chose each other, and we’re going to live happily ever after.” Isabela looked around the studio she had built with her own hands. She thought of the house they shared filled with laughter and music, of Ana, who would soon join them, of all the children they had helped heal through dance and therapy.

I don’t know if anyone lives happily ever after, little one, but I know we’re going to live happily for today and work towards being happy tomorrow. That’s all we need, said Mateo. One happy day at a time. Outside, the snow had begun to fall gently, reminding them of that night that had changed everything.

But this time the snow looked different, not like something cold and threatening, but like something beautiful and magical, proof that even the harshest storms can bring the most unexpected gifts. And as the three of them remained embraced in the light-filled and loving studio, Isabela thought about how far they had come from that bus stop.

“You don’t have a home, and I don’t have a mom,” Hope had said that night. Now they both had both and so much more. They had a family built on choice, love, and the promise that no one would ever have to face the storms alone again.