Chương 9
Then the pastry rolling beneath the table.
Later, while she was bleeding toward the hospital, Andrés had gathered the bread.
The detail was so ordinary that it hurt more than another message.
He had been capable of bending down.
Capable of collecting things.
Capable of deciding what came home.
Sofía walked to the bedroom.
Her closet door was open.
Andrés had removed several shirts and jeans.
His charger was gone.
His toiletry bag was missing.
He had packed.
Sofía sat on the edge of the bed.
Elena remained in the doorway.
“Do you want help?”
“Not yet.”
Sofía opened the bathroom cabinet.
The prenatal vitamins were where she had left them behind the coffee tin she kept there because their kitchen cabinet was too crowded.
She picked up the bottle.
The seal was unbroken.
Her knees weakened.
She lowered herself onto the closed toilet lid.
Elena appeared beside her but did not touch her until Sofía held out one hand.
Then her mother took it.
“I was going to tell him Saturday.”
Elena squeezed her fingers.
“I know.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I know now.”
Sofía looked at the bottle.
“I bought a stupid tiny pair of socks.”
Elena’s eyes filled.
“Where?”
“Bottom drawer.”
“Do you want me to get them?”
“No.”
The answer came too fast.
Then Sofía changed it.
“Yes.”
Elena found the socks tucked beneath a stack of pajamas.
They were yellow with little white stars.
Sofía held them in her palm.
They weighed almost nothing.
She placed them inside her bag beside the Saint Jude charm.
Her phone buzzed.
A message from Andrés.
I’m staying with my brother tonight.
Then another.
Mom says you’re trying to ruin Dad’s life.
Then a third.
I told her to stop.
Sofía read all three.
She did not answer.
A fourth appeared.
Can we please talk alone?
Sofía stared at the words.
Elena noticed.
“Are you going to?”
“Yes.”
Her mother’s expression hardened.
“Not today.”
“Why not?”
“Because I need to hear what he says when nobody else is speaking for him.”
Elena shook her head.
“You are hurt.”
“I know.”
“You do not owe him access.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
Sofía looked around the bathroom they had shared for three years.
Two toothbrush cups.
His shaving cream.
Her hair ties around the faucet.
A damp towel hanging badly because Andrés never spread towels out properly no matter how many times she complained.
“I need to know whether there’s anything left to leave.”
Elena went silent.
Sofía typed her first reply since the hospital.
Tomorrow.
Public place.
No family.
Andrés answered in less than a minute.
Okay.
Then, after another minute, one more message appeared.
I love you.
Sofía read it without moving.
The words still reached something inside her.
That was the cruelest part.
Love had not vanished when trust did.
It had simply become useless on its own.
She locked the phone and placed it in her bag.
Then she opened the closet and began choosing which clothes she would take.
She packed for four days and ended up with enough clothes for two weeks.
Elena sat on the bed folding everything Sofía handed her, though Sofía kept unfolding certain shirts and replacing them with others.
At one point she stood holding a red sweater Andrés had bought her on their second anniversary.
She could not decide whether taking it meant sentimentality or practicality.
“Do you like the sweater?” Elena asked.
“Yes.”
“Then take the sweater.”
“It feels strange.”
“It’s wool.”
Sofía looked at her.
Elena shrugged.
“You are assigning moral qualities to knitwear.”
Sofía put it in the suitcase.
The small joke gave her enough momentum to finish.
Before leaving, she checked the refrigerator because some part of her brain remained responsible for groceries.
There was half a container of soup, two yogurts, leftover rice, and the expensive cheese Andrés insisted he would eat and always forgot.
She nearly started throwing things away.
Instead, she shut the door.
That life was not going to be fixed by cleaning it.
They carried the suitcase downstairs together.
Sofía moved slowly.
The bruising had deepened, and each step pulled at her abdomen.
Elena kept one hand hovering near her elbow without quite touching.
At the curb, Sofía saw her reflection in the SUV window.
Pale face.
Loose hair.
A woman carrying a suitcase away from her own apartment.
She unlocked the vehicle and opened the rear hatch.
Elena stared at her.
“You are not driving.”
“I know.”
“Good.”
“I was putting the bag in.”
“I am monitoring your judgment.”
“You’ve mentioned.”
They returned to Maribel’s apartment, where Sofía slept for almost three hours.
When she woke, afternoon light had shifted across the wall.
Her phone contained a message from Daniela.
Do not meet Andrés alone.
Sofía called her immediately.
“I said public place.”
“I know.”
“So what’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing, if you understand that this is not a marital therapy session.”
“I’m not trying to reconcile.”
“Are you sure?”
The question annoyed her.
“Yes.”
Daniela waited.
Sofía rubbed her forehead.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s a better answer.”
Sofía looked toward the closed bedroom door.
“I need to hear him.”
“Then hear him.”
“But don’t negotiate the criminal complaint.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Don’t promise anything.”
“I won’t.”
“Don’t argue about evidence.”
“Okay.”
“And if he pressures you, leave.”
Sofía was silent.
Daniela’s voice softened slightly.
“You are allowed to discover he is not who you need him to be without convincing him of it.”
Sofía did not like advice dressed as wisdom.
Normally she would have resisted the sentence simply because it sounded too polished.
But it stayed with her.
They agreed Sofía would meet Andrés the next morning at a café near the hospital.
Elena objected when she heard.
Maribel objected more creatively.
“I can sit three tables away wearing sunglasses.”
“You own prescription glasses.”
“I can put sunglasses over them.”
“That would make you more noticeable.”
“Not if I also wear a hat.”
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“You are not coming.”
Elena said, “I could.”
