He checked a message on his phone and smirked slightly, like somebody somewhere was waiting to celebrate with him.
“What did you just say?” I asked.
He sighed impatiently, like I was the inconvenience.
“Don Julián, don’t make this harder than it already is. Rosa is gone. I deserve to move on.”
“And your daughters?”
He pointed toward the girls carelessly.
“My new partner isn’t going to raise three girls who barely listen to me anyway. You’re their grandfather. If you care about them so much, take them.”
Several relatives lowered their eyes in shame. My godmother covered her mouth. Even the priest suddenly became very interested in adjusting his robe so he wouldn’t have to witness the scene.
For one second, I wanted to hit Arturo right there in front of everyone.
But Abril squeezed my hand tightly, and I stopped myself.
Lucía didn’t cry.
That frightened me more than anything else.
She looked calmly at her father, then at her sisters. The three girls exchanged a silent understanding that felt far too mature for children their age.
That was when I realized they already knew something.
Something I didn’t.
“From now on, you’re coming home with me,” I told them.
Arturo laughed under his breath.
“Perfect. That’s one less burden for me.”
He didn’t hug his daughters goodbye.
He didn’t kiss their foreheads.
He didn’t ask if they needed clothes, medicine, or anything at all.
He simply turned around and walked toward a white van parked outside the cemetery. Inside, a young woman wearing dark sunglasses waited for him.
