The room fell quiet.
Then he added, “And nobody is allowed to say dreams don’t count anymore.”
Everyone laughed through tears.
Lucía pulled him down into a hug.
That night, after the guests left, the three of them sat in the open garage eating leftover cake with plastic forks. Rain began falling lightly outside, tapping the pavement just like it had the night Samuel died. For a moment, all three grew quiet.
Camila looked at her mother. “Does rain still scare you?”
Lucía thought about lying, then decided her children deserved honesty.
“Sometimes.”
“Me too,” Camila said.
Emiliano nodded. “Me too.”
Lucía took both their hands. “Then we will be scared together until we aren’t.”
The rain continued, but nobody moved inside.
A year later, Lucía finally returned to the old house. The woman who lived there now met them at the door with kindness and a little nervousness. The wardrobe was still in the bedroom, though the hidden panel was empty. Lucía stood before it for a long time. This ordinary piece of furniture had held the difference between death and life. It had held Samuel’s final act of protection. It had held the truth while everyone argued around it.
