Esperanza’s eyes filled, though she did not cry.
“I have only just learned she exists, and already I am afraid of what she may ask.”
“That fear does not make you selfish.”
“It feels selfish.”
“Love often arrives carrying more than one loyalty.”
Esperanza folded her hands.
“What would you do?”
Mother Caridad looked toward the distant orchard.
“I would not decide before hearing her truth.”
“And after?”
“After, I would remember that Tomás and Miguel are not questions to be solved. They are children with routines, attachments, and a home. Any choice must begin with their well-being.”
Esperanza nodded.
The answer steadied her.
Then she glanced at the blue curtains again.
“Mother?”
“Yes?”
“If someone used this room recently, there should be signs.”
Mother Caridad followed her gaze.
The floor was dusty.
Everywhere except near the far wall.
A narrow line beneath the curtains appeared cleaner than the rest.
