Within hours, things shifted quietly. A nurse spoke with Lucía. A meeting was arranged. And that afternoon, instead of Javier waiting at the stop, a social worker approached the bus.
Lucía hesitated before getting off. For the first time, she didn’t rush away. She walked to Manuel, hands shaking, eyes brimming.
“I didn’t want anyone to know,” she whispered. “The treatments make me tired. I didn’t want pity. My stepdad says it’s better if people don’t talk…”
Manuel’s voice broke in reply.
“Hija, facing something this big alone is the worst kind of silence.”
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