18. My Old Room
Dad had kept my old bedroom.
The furniture was different now.
A small desk stood near the window.
There were fresh curtains and a bookshelf.
But the room still felt familiar.
He placed Mateo’s travel crib beside the bed.
Then he brought me a glass of water.
“You can stay as long as you need.”
I looked at him.
“Dad, I don’t want to become a burden.”
He sat beside me.
“Camila, you’re not a burden.”
I started crying.
Not quietly.
Not politely.
I cried until my chest hurt.
Dad held my hand.
He didn’t tell me to calm down.
He didn’t ask me to explain.
He just stayed.
19. The Morning After
The next morning, I woke to the smell of coffee.
Mateo was babbling in his crib.
My ankle still hurt, but the swelling had begun to improve.
Dad was in the kitchen making breakfast.
He’d already bought diapers.
Milk.
Fruit.
And the baby cereal Mateo liked.
I stared at the groceries.
“Dad, you didn’t have to buy all this.”
He smiled.
“I know.”
That was the difference.
Rosa had made every small kindness feel like a debt.
Dad helped without turning it into a weapon.
20. The Phone Calls
Luis called eleven times that morning.
I didn’t answer immediately.
Then I sent him a message.
Mateo and I are safe at Dad’s. I need time to recover and think. We can discuss arrangements for Mateo calmly.
He replied within minutes.
I’m sorry. Please come home.
I stared at the words.
Home.
I wasn’t sure where that was anymore.
Then another message arrived.
Mom says your dad threatened to evict them.
I took a breath.
He didn’t. He told them their lease remains in effect.
Luis didn’t respond.
I set the phone down.
For the first time, I wasn’t going to spend the day correcting Rosa’s version of events.
