“She is my wife.”
“There is nothing you can do for her now, Julian.”
Her coldness cut through my grief and left something sharper behind. My mother had always thought I was weak. She said I felt too much, that my brother Rodrigo had the kind of strength needed to lead a family like ours.
Camila had always said my calm was not weakness.
It was my shield.
Carefully, I opened my wife’s stiff fingers one by one.
Teresa stepped toward me.
“I told you to leave her alone!”
Her shout made the staff in the room step back, but I ignored her.
Then I saw what Camila had been holding.
A small dark button, torn off by force.
Under her nails was a thin thread of navy-blue fabric.
My mother was wearing black.
But Rodrigo almost always wore navy-blue jackets.
I slipped the button into my pocket before anyone noticed.
