Lucía sat back down. Her hands felt cold. Hope was dangerous. Hope could be crueler than despair when it arrived too late. She had spent years surviving by not imagining rescue. Now, with minutes left, the room was suddenly full of motion, voices, urgency.
Emiliano wiped his nose with his sleeve. “Mom, are you still going to die?”
The question broke every adult in the room.
Lucía pulled him close. “I don’t know, mi amor. But whatever happens, you told the truth. That is the bravest thing anyone can do.”
He shook his head. “I should have told before.”
“You were a baby.”
“I remembered in dreams. I thought maybe dreams were lies.”
Camila knelt in front of him. Her voice shook. “Emi, I’m sorry.”
He looked at her. “For what?”
“For not believing Mom. For not asking you. For living with him.”
Emiliano touched the keychain. “You were scared too.”
