I was standing at the top of the stairs, my hand wrapped around my son Mateo’s baby monitor, when my mother-in-law’s voice sliced through the quiet afternoon.

“She still doesn’t know, does she? About the baby.”

My father-in-law laughed softly. “No. And Luis promised not to tell her.”

The monitor slipped in my damp palm. Behind me, Mateo slept peacefully in his crib, unaware that his own grandparents were discussing him like a secret that needed managing.

“She can’t know yet,” my mother-in-law added in that careful tone she used when she thought she was discreet. “And it won’t be considered a crime.”