But I heard the voices from upstairs.
I came down the stairs slowly.
Daniel looked terrible.
Deep dark circles under his eyes.
Unshaven.
The same wrinkled shirt from Friday.
He looked like he had aged ten years in two days.
“Mom.”
His voice broke when he saw me.
“Daniel, please. We need to talk.”
Linda looked at me.
I nodded.
“It’s okay. Let him in.”
We sat in Linda’s small living room.
She stayed nearby, a silent guardian.
Daniel didn’t know where to start.
He ran his hands through his hair.
He bit his lips.
Finally, he spoke.
“I didn’t know the house was in your name.”
“I know.”
“Why did you never tell me?”
That question.
That damned question.
“I did tell you, Daniel. For the first six months, I reminded you every two weeks. Son, we need to go to the notary to do the transfer. Do you remember what you’d say?”
