At my father’s funeral, my husband leaned towards me and murmured, “You’re not needed here.” I just smiled.

When I got home, Tomás was waiting for me in the living room, nervous, unable to hide his desperation.

“What’s going on, Alex? Who are those people?” he asked, raising his voice.

I calmly took off my coat.

“They’re part of the team my father left in my charge.”

He frowned.