“What did you say?”
His eyes closed for a moment.
“I told her to go home and work things out with her husband.”
The clock continued ticking.
I could barely breathe.
“Why?” I whispered.
“Because I was stubborn. Because I thought marriage was a promise you kept, even when it hurt.”
His voice cracked on the final word.
I looked at the photographs again.
“What happened to them?”
He did not answer right away.
When he finally looked at me, the truth was already on his face.
“They died in a car accident six weeks later.”
I covered my mouth.
“He was driving,” Mr. Alvarez added. “He had been drinking.”
The room seemed to shrink around us.
“I’m so sorry.”
He nodded once, but his expression did not change.
“I had money saved. Not much, but enough to help her. I had this apartment. I had an empty room in the house. She asked for help, and I sent her back.”
