Marisol added, her voice full of poison:
“Valeria was crying. It was her birthday and your daughter arrived as if she were the queen of the party. What did you want us to do?”
I looked at Sofia. He trembled.
I did not scream. I didn’t break anything. I just took his hand and we walked out.
But as I closed the door, I heard my dad say:
“This is how the conceited is lowered.”
And there I understood that this was just beginning.
I couldn’t believe what was about to happen…
On the way home, Sofia said almost nothing. He touched his hair as if he still didn’t understand where he had gone. I drove with my hands so tight behind the wheel that my fingers hurt.
When I arrived, I made him chamomile tea. He sat in the kitchen with a huge sweatshirt, his legs tied up and his gaze lost.
