At the saddest moment of the funeral, a street child appeared out of nowhere, walked to the coffin of the deceased girl, “Your daughter’s murderer is back there.” The man was paralyzed and what happened next became a real nightmare. The pain seemed to fit inside that room. The body of little Alicia, barely 8 years old, lay motionless in a white golden satin coffin, decorated with a pale rose and a delicate crown of flowers over her blonde hair.
A day before she was alive laughing in the mansion library. The next morning she was found lifeless, fallen in front of the gates of the property of her father, Germán, a millionaire businessman known for his discretion. No one could explain what had happened. There were no signs of struggle or witnesses, only silence and an absence impossible to fill. The chapel was filled with devastated faces, black dresses, reddened eyes, suppressed sighs, family, friends, employees of the mansion, all trying to understand the inexplicable.
Germán kept his hands together and his gaze lost in his daughter. At his side, his brother Miguel, with white hair and a heavy countenance, watched him in silence while his son Hector, with his arms crossed, looked at the ground. It was impossible not to wonder how a girl so full of life could disappear like this, from one day to the next, as if her soul had vanished in the wind. It was fine. Just yesterday he asked me for pancakes for breakfast, Germán murmured to himself, almost in a whisper, as if he were clinging to a ridiculous detail so as not to go crazy.
Miguel touched her shoulder discreetly. Strength, brother. Just that. Strength. But there was no force to sustain that emptiness. Alicia was the light of the house, intelligent, affectionate, full of questions. Her room still smelled of children’s perfume and now there she was, pale, motionless, with her eyelashes as if she were sleeping. It was in that scenario that the unexpected happened. The door of the chapel creaked and all eyes were directed towards her. A child entered. No one knew who he was. Dark skin, torn denim overalls, short hair and firm face.
The contrast between his appearance and the solemn atmosphere caused immediate discomfort. Who let him in?, whispered a woman in the back row, but he walked without hesitation, step by step, as if he had been born for that moment. The gazes alternated between indignation, curiosity and bewilderment. The boy approached the coffin, absolute silence. She looked at Alice, took a deep breath, and held out her little hand. His fingers touched hers with almost irreverent care. You promised me that you were going to teach me how to draw big houses,” he murmured with a broken voice.
A murmur ran through the room. Germán got up confused. “Who is that child?” he murmured to a nearby aunt. “No one knew.” Then the boy looked up and said to Germán, “Stop, of course, so that everyone could hear it. Your daughter’s killer is back there.” The phrase exploded like dynamite inside the chapel. Someone gasped. A woman let out a gasp. An old man put his hands to his mouth. Germán, not understanding, stood up in a daze. What are you talking about?
He asked in a trembling voice, almost out of breath. The boy then slowly turned, raised his arm, and pointed firmly. The finger stopped on Miguel. The room seemed to turn. Eyes turned to the white-haired man. Miguel remained still, pale, showing no reaction. “Repeat what you said,” Germán demanded now standing, his voice trembling. But the boy didn’t repeat, he just lowered his arm, took a deep breath and looked Germán in the eyes. He didn’t say anything else and in that silence something changed.
The funeral, which was mourning and nostalgia, became suspicion, confusion and uneasiness. The boy’s gaze carried weight, as if to say, “I saw it and I came to tell it.” The atmosphere inside the room was split in two and what seemed to be the end, perhaps was just the beginning. The salon had not yet recovered from the impact. The sentence spoken by the boy resounded like thunder that refused to fade. Her daughter’s killer is back there and the silence that followed was even more deafening.
Germán was still standing, breathing heavily, trying to process what he had just heard. Her eyes went from the boy to Miguel and back to her daughter in the coffin. His heart was pounding so hard that it seemed to want to jump out of his chest. Can someone explain to me what’s going on? His voice came out hoarse, almost pleading. The child was still motionless. His dirty hands were now pressed against each other, as if struggling to maintain the steadfastness that still held him. She looked at Germán with eyes full of tears, but without turning away.
There was something in that look that was not common for a child, a weight, a pain far greater than his age should carry. he stepped forward, hesitated, and then muttered, “My name is Jaime. I was a friend of Alicia’s.” The revelation generated another murmur. Friends, but how come no one had seen it before he didn’t tell anyone. We saw each other secretly in the park. Jaime swallowed. He said that he couldn’t talk about me, that his dad didn’t like me hanging out with people like me.
The phrase was said with a mixture of resignation and pain. The comment fell like a stab in the chest of Germán, who was visibly affected. Miguel looked at his brother, but remained silent. Jaime continued. But we were real friends. Every Saturday she would leave a little note under the bench and I would go. We played guessing, we drew on the ground with sticks. The memories seemed to weigh more when they were said out loud. Germán sat dejectedly with his hands clasped on his forehead.
Jaime looked at him as if asking permission to continue. The day before, the day he disappeared, we saw each other as always. But she was weird. She said she was afraid, that someone had threatened her. The whole room was hanging on every syllable of the child. I asked him who he was, but he said he couldn’t tell. He only said that he was going home earlier. He paused for a long time. His eyes began to tremble, as if the hardest part was yet to come. I watched from afar.
It was then that I saw her get into a black car. a large car with dark windows. German’s breathing stopped. Jaime then took out a folded piece of cardboard from the pocket of his overalls. It was wrinkled, dirty, but it had something written in blue pen, a sequence of numbers and letters. I was scared, but I wrote down the plates. I thought if something bad happened, at least I would have that. There was an immediate movement. One of the policemen present, discreetly dressed in a suit at the back of the room, approached and took the paper from Jaime’s hands.
He checked the data with the radio in his ear. A few seconds later he was paralyzed. The color of his face changed. He looked at Germán, then at Miguel. He approached. These plates belong to a vehicle registered in the name of Miguel Guzmán. The air vanished from the room. Time stopped for a few seconds. Germán turned to look at his brother completely incredulous. Miguel, tell me that this is a mistake. German’s voice sounded more like a whisper that begged not to be true.
Miguel did not answer. Suddenly, another policeman approached and put a hand on his shoulder. Mr. Guzmán, is detained on suspicion of participation in the death of Alicia Guzmán. Chaos erupted. People got up, some were crying, others were screaming. Germán witnessed the scene as if he were watching a nightmare unfold before his very eyes. his brother handcuffed, his daughter’s funeral interrupted and in the middle of it all, that child, an invisible child who had just become the center of everything.
The wake had ended like this in hours, but the image of the boy standing in front of the coffin still haunted Germán like a ghost. The house was plunged into a silence that seemed to scream. Miguel had been taken into police custody and Germán, staggering, locked himself in Alicia’s room for more than an hour, lying on his daughter’s bed, with her diary pressed to his chest, although he did not have the courage to open it. Outside, Jaime was still sitting in the same place at the edge of the mansion’s steps, hugging his knees looking at the sky.
Seeing him there, so small, so alone, Germán felt a pang in his chest. That boy had faced a full classroom, faced an unknown family and told the truth out loud, not even knowing if he would be heard. He took a deep breath, walked down the stairs silently, and walked over. “You have somewhere to go,” he asked, trying to control the emotion. Jaime just shook his head without saying anything. Do you want to stay here for a few days until we understand everything. The answer came in the form of a relieved look, followed by a timid nod.
Germán then took him inside. In the following days, Jaime began to adapt to the new environment. Despite the grandeur of the mansion, he preferred to stay in the simplest corners of the house. in the courtyard, in the portico, sometimes near the abandoned chicken coop. She helped with small meals, made the bed, watered the plants in the garden and always left a small plate of food under the tree where she used to talk to Alicia in the park. Germán observed this with a mixture of tenderness and guilt.
Somehow, that child seemed to keep his daughter’s presence alive inside the house. However, not everyone seemed comfortable with his presence. Hector, Miguel’s son and Alicia’s cousin, remained in the mansion even after his father’s arrest under the care of a great-aunt who lived at the back of the property. During the day they could hardly see each other, but at night something strange began to happen. One morning, Jaime woke up with the feeling that he was being watched.
When he opened his eyes, he saw Hector standing at the door of the room. He said nothing, just stared at him in silence, like a shadow that refused to disappear. The next night was worse. Jaime heard noises coming from Alicia’s old room. He got up carefully, walked barefoot down the hallway, and stopped in front of the half-open door. Inside she found Hector sitting on the floor with one of Alicia’s favorite toys in his hands. A hand-painted wooden horse.
The boy spoke only in a low, hurried whisper. Jaime stood still without breathing. A shiver ran down his spine. He stepped back slowly, returning to his room in silence, his heart racing. The next day he pretended that nothing had happened, but he began to avoid Hector. The glances that the boy threw at her now were loaded with something that he could not explain. A kind of mute threat, a grudge disguised as normality. Once, when he sat down to breakfast, Jaime noticed that one of Alicia’s drawings had disappeared from the small table where he had left it the day before.
He looked around, but no one seemed to have seen anything, only Hector, who was watching him from across the room with a half-smile on his lips. That night Jaime couldn’t sleep. Looking out of the window he looked out over the dark garden and tried to understand if what he had seen and heard was real. I wanted to tell Germán, I wanted to trust, but what if I thought it was an invention and if it was just the product of fear. After all, it was hard enough to be a homeless child, and now I was in a house where death had left deep marks, where Alicia’s absence seemed to weigh on every wall.
But something inside him told him that there were still secrets to discover. With each night he slept badly, Jaime was more certain that something in that house did not make sense. Ever since he saw Hector whispering alone in Alicia’s old room, something lit up inside him, a fear that would not go away and a distrust that did not stop growing. Hector avoided the boy during the day, but he threw him looks that seemed like silent threats. Germán, on the other hand, no longer seemed so distant.
Since Jaime revealed what he saw, the man had begun to listen more, to observe more. He was still in mourning, yes, but now there was something else in his eyes, a restlessness that kept him alert. It was on a gray afternoon when Jaime decided to do what his heart dictated. Héctor had left the mansion with his aunt to buy medicine and the house was silent. The cousin’s room was upstairs at the end of the hall.
With light steps, Jaime climbed the stairs fighting against the fear that settled in his chest. He stopped in front of the door, took a deep breath, and went inside. The room was clean, almost impersonal. a poster of cars on the wall, a desk with books and papers scattered and an antique dark wood chest of drawers with two poorly closed drawers. With his heart beating at 1000, Jaime opened the first drawer and searched through folded clothes and forgotten objects. Nothing. He opened the second.
In the background, wrapped in a blue sock, was the necklace. Alicia’s necklace, the one with the golden butterfly charm that she wore every day. Jaime held it in his hands as if he were touching fire. A lump formed in his throat. He was sure. That was a test. That was part of the truth that everyone was looking for. He ran to where Germán was, who was in the yard checking the garage door. Mr. Germán, I entered Héctor’s room.
I know I shouldn’t, but I found this. Germán looked at the necklace and his expression changed. Instantly he touched the pendant with trembling fingers, eyes full of tears. That was his favorite. The last time I saw her with him was He didn’t finish the sentence, he just looked at Jaime seriously and nodded slowly. He put the necklace in his shirt pocket. That night the silence was heavier than ever. The house seemed to hold its breath. Jaime remained silent in his room while Germán walked through the corridors pensively as if sewing memories with suspicion.
The next day, as soon as he returned, Héctor seemed restless. His room was scrambled. It took him a few minutes to notice that something had changed. He went to Germán trying to maintain a calm tone, but the nervousness was noticeable in his gestures. Man, I need to talk to you about something. Things of mine are disappearing, such as my watch, my headphones, even that pen that you gave me last year. All that appeared in Jaime’s room. It was under his bed. Germán did not respond immediately. He stared at him for long seconds.
His eyes, now attentive, did not blink. Are you telling me he’s stealing from us? Héctor maintained the discourse firmly. I didn’t want to accuse anyone, but I’m not the one who puts those things there. Germán took a deep breath, crossed his arms. And how do you know exactly what’s inside your room? Hector was paralyzed for a moment, then he hid. I heard the employee say it. He said he found the things while cleaning, but Germán did not respond. he just watched it. I had heard enough.
I knew that Hector was trying to incriminate Jaime to distract him. From there, the invisible war inside the mansion intensified. Héctor walked through the house as if he were stepping on a minefield. Jaime felt his eyes riveted on his back and sometimes woke up with whispers coming from the hallway. Germán, although silent, observed everything. His suspicions were no longer in the realm of doubt. And something inside him was starting to hurt again, but this time it wasn’t mourning, it was anger.
That morning, Germán could not sleep. Sitting in the armchair in the study, he kept his eyes fixed on the extinguished fireplace, with his fingers clasped over his mouth and Alice’s necklace pressed in his hand. He felt surrounded by an invisible weight. It wasn’t just the absence of her daughter, it was the feeling of having failed her, of having ignored signs that were there all along. Jaime’s words, Hector’s gestures, the objects that reappeared, everything swirled in his mind like a macabre puzzle whose pieces began to fit together too late.
He rose silently, as if the mansion was alive and should not be awakened. He climbed the stairs slowly, each step creaking as if denouncing his guilt. He stopped in front of Alicia’s room. The door had been closed since the day of the wake. No one dared to enter. But now there was something pushing him, a silent urgency, a need to face the pain head-on. He turned the knob. The sweet scent that still wafted in the air almost knocked him down.
It was as if Alicia was still there dancing with her stuffed animals, making up stories out loud, asking for 5 more minutes before going to sleep. The room was exactly as she had left it. The pink quilt with flower embroidery, the desk full of colored pencils, the unicorn piggy bank on the shelf. Germán walked to the bed, sat up carefully and left the necklace on the pillow as if he were returning something that should never have been taken away. He looked carefully over the room.
It was then that he noticed a wooden box painted blue stored at the bottom of the shelf. Inside folded drawings, slips of paper with messages, magazine clippings and a lilac hardcover notebook with stickers on the cover. Alicia’s diary. Germán hesitated. He touched the lid reverently. He was afraid of what he would find there, but fear no longer protected him from anything. He took a deep breath and opened the first page. Her daughter’s childish, rounded handwriting seemed to scream from the lines.
Today I played with Jaime again, but I still have to hide it. Dad can’t know. Her eyes filled with tears. He continued reading. Each sentence was a dagger. Hector came into my room again. He said not to say anything, that it was a secret, but I don’t like that. German’s hands began to tremble. As he turned more pages, he found sentences scrawled in nervous letters, as if they had been written in a hurry. I’m afraid of Hector. And right underneath, if anything happens, it was him.
Germán pressed the newspaper to his chest, as if trying to absorb all that with his body. His head was spinning. How did he not notice? How many times did Alicia try to say something to him and he didn’t listen to her. He recalled one night, weeks before the disappearance, when she knocked on his door saying she needed to talk. I was tired, stressed about work. “It could be tomorrow, my love,” he said without even opening the door. It was the last time she tried. “Sorry, sorry, daughter,” he whispered on his knees on the carpet, his face buried in his hands, the newspaper, now open in front of him with the pages moving in the breeze from the half-open window.
It all made sense. Everything Jaime had told, everything that he himself was beginning to see in Hector’s eyes. The pieces fit together. But the feeling that dominated Germán at that moment was not only indignation, it was guilt. A sharp guilt that destroyed him in silence. Because a father must protect, a father must know. He stayed there for hours reading every line, every drawing made with a colored pen, every little piece of his daughter’s mind left on paper.
It was like listening to Alice for the last time and she was asking for help, even after all she was still asking. Germán got up with difficulty, his face wet with tears, his eyes lit up by something new. He left the room and went down the stairs with determined steps. Now he was no longer just Alicia’s father, he was the man she had chosen to listen to, even if it was too late. And there was someone who had to answer for all that. The sun had not yet risen when Germán took the keys to the car, passed by the kitchen without making a sound, grabbed a coat that was hanging on the back of the chair and left in silence.
Alicia’s diary was in her backpack along with the necklace and bracelet of red beads that she had made herself with plastic beads. He drove to the state prison with his hands firmly on the wheel, his eyes fixed on the road, as if every kilometer traveled was a preparation for what was to come. The mind, however, was burning. What I had read in those pages had changed everything. And now there was a question that I could no longer silence.
Miguel knew it. Upon arrival, he handed over his documents, was checked and taken to the visiting room. The atmosphere was cold and gray. A single lamp hanging from the ceiling flickered on the metal table. Germán sat down, his hands clasped, his nails digging into his palms. The sound of metal doors opening echoed through the room. When Miguel entered, they both looked at each other for long seconds. No words, just two brothers devastated and separated by a tragedy that could no longer be reversed.
Miguel was dejected, with messy hair and a grown beard. His eyes, however, still seemed to be searching for a bit of dignity. Why did you do this, Miguel?” asked Germán with a firm but broken voice. His brother sat up slowly avoiding his gaze. I read the diary. She tried to warn me. I didn’t listen to her. Miguel was silent for a moment, his eyes downcast. “Are you hearing me?” She wrote it with all her letters. I was afraid of Hector. Germán took the notebook out of his backpack and put it on the table.
She trusted me and I told her it could be tomorrow. Tomorrow. His voice broke. Anger, pain, and remorse swirled in his chest. Miguel ran his hand over his face, took a deep breath, and then looked at his brother with tears in his eyes. “I knew,” he said in a thread of voice. Not everything, but I knew it. Germán froze. That night I got home earlier. I saw Alicia leave Héctor’s room crying.
I asked him what had happened. He said it was a silly fight, that she was nervous, but she looked scared. He paused for a long time. When they said they had found the body, I knew. Before the police arrived, I already knew. And then, after that child showed up at the wake saying that he saw her get into a black car and that it was my car, everything fell into place. That day Héctor had secretly left with the car.
He kidnapped Alice, poisoned her, and left her body in the driveway of your house. Why didn’t you tell the truth? Germán squeezed the edge of the table tightly, the veins in his neck marked. Miguel lowered his head in embarrassment. Because I was weak and because he is my son. The words weighed tons. Would you have done anything differently? The question came out between her teeth, full of pain. Germán doubted, his heart on fire. Yes. I would have protected my daughter. Miguel nodded slowly, swallowing hard.
Well, that’s right, I protected my son and I lost both of them. Miguel then began to cry. It was not a contained or silent cry. It was a broken, almost childish cry of someone who no longer knows how to carry what he feels. I thought I could fix it, that I just needed help, that it was an outburst, a confusion. I didn’t want to believe what I saw in his eyes. Germán watched him paralyzed. For the first time I did not see the brother, but a destroyed father, a man who out of blind love chose to give himself up in place of his son.
But in doing so he also destroyed the only chance of justice for Alice. You lied to me. You let me bury her, thinking she had been a stranger. You let me cry on your shoulder, Germán said, his voice broken but firm. Miguel nodded, still crying, because if I told you the truth, you would never look at me again. And now, maybe you don’t anymore. The silence between them was almost physical. Then Germán got up. He took his daughter’s diary and put it back in his backpack.
Now I do look, but not at you. I look at the pain we caused and the truth that Alicia tried to tell me. When Germán turned to leave, Miguel said in a broken voice, he didn’t deserve this. No child deserves it. Germán paused for a moment, but did not look back. That’s right. But she spent her whole life trying to talk to me and I only listened to her when it was too late and she left the room. As he passed through the last iron door, he pressed the newspaper to his chest, as if holding a request for forgiveness that will never be answered.
But now I knew exactly what I had to do and it was no longer out of anger or guilt, it was out of justice. The sound of the prison door closing behind him was still ringing in German’s ears when he arrived at the mansion. His body was tired, but his eyes were lit. There was no longer doubt or fear, there was a purpose. He went straight upstairs to the room, took the backpack off his back, and placed Alicia’s diary carefully on his daughter’s desk.
He opened it again and ran his fingers over a sentence scrawled in the corner of the page. He said it was just a game, but I was scared. German’s fist clenched itself. With each page he read, he felt less like a grieving father and more like a man on the verge of an inevitable confrontation. He did not hesitate. He picked up the phone and called Inspector Andrade, who had accompanied Miguel’s arrest. I need him to listen to me and to listen to me until the end,” he said in a firm voice.
He told him everything: the diary entries, Hector’s strange behavior, the necklace found in his room, the attempts to incriminate Jaime and finally Miguel’s confession. There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Are you sure what you are saying, Mr. Guzmán? I am, but more than that, I need you to see it with your own eyes. The mask is going to fall. I just need you to be here when it happens. That afternoon the mansion looked like a scene staged for the outcome of a tragedy.
Two investigators discreetly positioned themselves in the hallway. The employee was instructed to maintain the routine. Jaime stayed in his room nervously. Germán, for his part, sat in the main room with the newspaper in his hands, his face calm on the outside, but his muscles tense like ropes about to break. When Hector came down to dinner, with the same arrogant posture as always, Germán stood up and looked directly at him. We need to talk. Hector rolled his eyes.
again with the same thing. No, it is not the same. It’s the truth, Germán replied, pointing to the table. Sit down. Hector hesitated for a second, then sat down crossing his arms. Germán then took out of the newspaper a photo of Alicia smiling with the butterfly necklace around her neck. He placed it on the table. She trusted you, she called you brother. Do you know what he wrote about you, Hector? The boy kept his gaze fixed on the wall. I have no idea. Germán opened a page, read aloud.
If something happens, it was him. At that moment, the air changed. Hector blinked slowly, then smiled. A short, crooked, almost mocking smile. And do you think a girl’s doodle is going to prove anything? The two investigators entered the room quietly, but he was undeterred. Did you call the police about that? Because a little girl with a tantrum wrote a name in a notebook. Germán approached. His eyes were burning. She wasn’t tantrum, she was my daughter and you killed her. The phrase fell like a sentence.
Then Hector jumped up, knocking down the chair and the control façade suddenly shattered. He deserved it! He screamed with his eyes bulging. She was gossiping. He said he was going to tell you. I just wanted him to shut up. Screams echoed throughout the mansion. The investigators looked at each other and moved quickly. Don’t touch me, you’re all hypocrites, he kept screaming while he was immobilized. Germán remained still as if time had frozen around him.
The scene was devastating. Hector, who had always seemed restrained, was now completely out of his mind. His hands trembled, his face reddened, saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth, as he shouted meaningless insults. You were never a real uncle. Alicia was a plague, a gossip. I only taught him one lesson. The screams died down as they took him down the hallway, but the damage was done. The truth had finally been revealed, naked, cruel, and more devastating than anyone here was prepared to face.
Jaime, who had discreetly descended the stairs, saw everything from afar. His wide-open eyes didn’t blink, but no tears fell, he just watched. Germán then turned to him. There were no words between the two, but there was something in German’s gaze that was now complete, a mixture of pain and relief, of guilt and justice. He walked over, knelt in front of the boy, and said quietly, he trusted you and so did I. Jaime nodded still silently.
For the first time it was not only the child who appeared at the wake, he was the one who prevented the silence from continuing. The news came early the next morning. Germán was in the yard, sitting near Alicia’s swing with Jaime by his side when the phone rang. Inspector Andrade on the other end of the line got straight to the point. Based on his daughter’s confession, evidence, and diary, Miguel will be released today. There was a silence.
Germán looked at the ground. Her eyes were empty, as if she was still trying to understand what that meant. He is going to need someone to pick him up,” the inspector concluded. Germán replied only with a contained sigh and a simple: “I’m going.” The road to the prison seemed shorter than before, but infinitely heavier. Germán drove with the windows open as if the wind could relieve the lump in his throat. He remembered the last conversation, the tears, the harsh words and everything that, as much as it hurt, needed to have been said.
When he arrived, he did not enter as he had done the previous time. This time he was left out. Leaning against the car, with his arms crossed, the iron gate opened slowly and among the rays of the sun that still pale morning, Miguel appeared, thin, older than before, with wrinkled clothes and a look that mixed shame and relief. Neither of them moved for an instant. They just looked at each other. There were no masks anymore, there were no defenses anymore, just two brothers facing the ruins around them.
Germán took a slight step forward. Miguel let out the air contained in his chest. “I thought you wouldn’t come,” he said, his voice low, almost hoarse. Germán looked at him with teary eyes and a tired face. “I’m almost there.” Miguel nodded as if he understood and accepted. The silence between them was so dense that any word would have seemed like a scream. “I don’t know what to say,” Miguel tried with his shoulders slumped, the guilt still evident in every gesture. I apologized to her every day in here, but I know it’s no use anymore.
Her eyes filled with tears. Maybe I don’t deserve that forgiveness, neither from you nor from her. Germán looked away for a second, then looked at him again. You’ve already lost too much and so have I. His voice came out breathy, firm and fragile at the same time. Now we just have to move forward. Miguel tried to hide his tears, but he couldn’t. He covered his face with his hand like a child who is ashamed of the pain he carries inside. Germán approached, put his hand on her shoulder.
There was no hug, not yet, but there was a gesture, a touch that coming from him was already a miracle. Miguel looked up in surprise. Do you really forgive me? German didn’t respond right away, took a deep breath and said, “It’s not about forgiveness. It’s about not letting the pain swallow what’s left. And at that moment they both knew it wouldn’t be easy, nothing would be, but it wouldn’t be impossible either. The way back was silent. Miguel looked out the window as if he were observing a world he no longer recognizes.
The streets, the trees, the cars, everything seemed new, but stained by memories. When they arrived at the mansion, Miguel hesitated before going downstairs. Germán noticed it. “Did you know that she mentioned you in the newspaper?” he said, staring at the flyer. Miguel opened his eyes without understanding. He said you were funny, that you told him silly stories to sleep on when I traveled. He said he wanted me to be more like you. That broke something inside him. Miguel wept silently. He got out of the car without saying anything.
Germán accompanied him to the gate. There Jaime was waiting for them leaning against the wall, hugging a teddy bear that belonged to Alicia. The boy’s eyes met with Miguel’s and the two looked at each other for long seconds. Jaime didn’t smile, he didn’t move, but he didn’t move away either. It was a beginning, a reassurance, an attempt, albeit timid, to rebuild trust, not with words, but with presence. Time passed delicately. The mansion, previously immersed in mourning and silence, began to breathe differently.
The flowers in the garden bloomed again, and the hallways of the house no longer seemed so empty. Little by little, life resumed its course, not as before, but as it could be after all. Jaime now had a room just for him, with new books, simple toys, and a picture of Alicia smiling at the headboard. He was no longer a visitor or a temporary guest, he was part of that house, he was part of the family. One morning with clear skies, Germán called Jaime to the patio.
The two walked side by side to the old wooden swing, where Alicia spent her afternoons making up stories. They paused in silence for a few moments, listening to the sound of the wind moving the string. Germán, his eyes full of tears, bent down in front of the boy and held his small hands in his. I will never be able to thank you enough for what you did, Jaime. If you hadn’t shown up that day, maybe I’d still be in the dark, lost, caught up in a lie.
Jaime looked down moved. Germán continued with a firm but broken voice. You were the courage that I didn’t have. You were my daughter’s voice when no one else was listening to her. And that’s why this house is yours now, too, not out of pity or debt, but because you deserve to be here. Jaime swallowed. Are you sure? Murmured. Germán smiled and nodded. Absolutely. Alicia would have liked it to be that way. It was at that moment that the child threw himself into her arms in a tight embrace, filled with everything words could not say.
On the other side of the courtyard, Miguel watched the scene in silence, his eyes moist and his heart shrunken. He knew he could never erase his mistakes, but maybe he could build something new from there. And at that moment, as he looked at Jaime smiling, Miguel felt that even among the ashes, life was trying to flourish again. He slowly walked over and sat down next to them without saying anything. He was just there, trying to start over. The swing creaked gently in the breeze.
Jaime looked up at the sky and then at Alice’s old diary, now resting on his lap. He ran his fingers over the cover as if he were talking to someone who still lives elsewhere. German looked at him tenderly and said, “She’s proud of you.” The boy smiled without answering and in that soft silence full of meaning it was clear. Alicia was still alive in the gestures, in the revealed truth and in the home that now finally belonged to Jaime as well.
