my head.
“It’s okay… you’re strong.”
For hours, I was torn between guilt and relief.
Guilt… for having doubted.
Relief… for not having found something worse.
But deep down, she knew that none of those emotions were enough.
Because there was something that still didn’t fit.
Why would a five-year-old girl, even if she was being bullied at school, react like that?
Why such profound silence?
Why the way they remained motionless, as if any movement could make things worse?
The next morning, I decided not to go to work.
It was the first time in months that he had been absent.
I silently prepared breakfast while Sofia sat at the table, slowly stirring her milk with her spoon.
Alejandro left the room, dressed for work, with his usual calm demeanor.
“I’m not going to the store today,” I said without looking at him.
He nodded, suspecting nothing.
“That’s fine.
