I promise you that when I grow up, I’ll pay you back. At that instant, the man’s gaze froze, conveying both wisdom and hesitation. It was David Ferrer, a tech entrepreneur from Los Angeles. He stared for a long moment as if seeing a distant day long ago. Then, the car door began to open. As the car door opened, David Ferrer got out, closing it softly behind him. Sunlight reflected off the shoulder of his white suit jacket.
He was the founder of a technology corporation specializing in data infrastructure and cloud services. His job was to sign off on decisions, set standards, and keep the machinery running smoothly. Twenty-two years earlier, his wife had died after giving birth to twins. Since then, he had raised his two children alone, guided by a jam-packed schedule and dinners that passed in silence. People called him a reserved man who lived quietly in a noisy city.
David Ferrer had just returned from Forest Lone Cemetery. He had left a bouquet of white flowers on his wife’s grave and stood for a long moment, speechless. Today he hadn’t called his chauffeur. After every visit to the cemetery, he always drove himself. His hands on the wheel helped him keep his breathing steady and his pain hidden from the eyes of others. At home, it was a tacit agreement. On the days he visited her grave, he would take the wheel, and Miguel and Daniel would sit silently in the back.
But right now, in front of him, was a little girl holding two feverish twins, their faces flushed, their eyes wet with tears, caught between fear and stubborn determination. Sofia bent down to protect her younger siblings. She swallowed and spoke quickly as if afraid the opportunity would slip away. Please, just a little milk for them. They’ll get weak if they don’t take some. David didn’t reply immediately; he crouched down to their level, studying each child carefully, and then pressed the back of his hand to Lucas’s forehead.
It was burning. Mateo was panting, his chest rising and falling with hurried effort. David took off his jacket, threw it over the shoulders of the three brothers, and pulled it tight to keep the wind out. “Since when have they had a fever?” David asked. “Since last night.” Sofia pulled the corner of the jacket closer around Mateo. “I’ll work harder. I just need a little milk for them.” The front door behind them moved slightly. Sandra Roja peeped through the curtain with a cold, shining gaze.
She muttered loud enough to be heard. Another fool fooled by that rabble. Ricardo Castillo stood behind the door with his arms crossed. His gaze slid over David as if he were looking at a piece of trash. Then he shouted with mocking emphasis. “Wow, isn’t that David Ferrer himself? What wind brought you here? My advice is to stay away from those pests. That girl just stole some milk. I had to kick them out. Consider it a lesson.”
Some neighbors peeked out of their doors and then quickly retreated. A man sweeping his yard slowed down, but avoided meeting anyone’s gaze. No one came forward. The street remained silent, as if nothing had happened. David turned his head toward the Castillo house, but said nothing. His gaze lingered on the door, holding a warning pause. Then he quickly returned his attention to the children. He reached out to lift Lucas.
Let me carry this child. Your arms must be tired. Sofia was startled by the politeness and certainty in his voice. She hesitated, then passed Lucas into her arms. David held the child close to his chest for warmth. He looked at Sofia once more. “What’s your name? My name is Sofia Castillo. This is my little brother. His name is Lucas, and this is Mateo.” Her voice was shaky, thin, as if it could fade away at any moment. David nodded slightly.
I’m David. A warm gust of wind blew. Sofia glanced quickly at her hand, which was holding the hem of her coat. On her finger was an old, faded silver wedding band. She spoke quietly, almost to herself. I’ve seen him wear that ring before. I think it was in Forbs magazine, the one my father used to read when he was alive. The moment she finished speaking, Mateo shook violently, coughing hard and then bursting into a loud cry.
The sound hung heavy in the air, thick and suffocating. She frantically tried to calm him. “It’s okay, Mateo. The milk’s coming. That’s great, they need a drink and for their fever to go down,” David said firmly. He pulled the coat tighter around them, his eyes never leaving the children’s faces. “Do you have diapers? Yes, but I only have a few left.” Sofia pointed to an old cloth bag on the floor. Sandra flung open the door. “Hey, don’t make a scene in front of my house.” David turned his head.
