—Yes, my love. Sit down. The quesadillas will be ready in a moment.
As he cooked, his mind worked faster than his hands. He remembered the last few times he’d tried to see Leticia. “Don’t come, son, I’m really sick with the flu, I don’t want to give it to the baby.” “I can’t today, I’m just leaving for the doctor.” Always excuses. Always by text or brief calls where her voice sounded distant, tired.
Was it really her?
She pulled out her phone. The message from the night before was still there, blinking like a silent threat.
*“I need to talk to you about the payment method. Call me today.”*
Joaquín took a deep breath. If he wanted answers, he had to go into the lion’s den, but carefully. He dialed the number.
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