She was still beautiful. She’d even gained a maturity and serenity she hadn’t had when she was younger. Only the fine lines at the corners of her eyes and slightly less firm skin reminded us that we weren’t children anymore. “I wanted to surprise you,” I said, smiling as I looked her over. “You haven’t aged a bit, Lucía.” “What are you saying? I’m a mother of four now.” She laughed, playfully punching my arm, but her eyes were red. She took my arm and led me inside.
Come in. Come in. How did you find the house? The interior was clean, almost too clean. The furniture was Nordic style, minimalist, in shades of white, gray, and natural wood. Clean lines, but lacking warmth, like a show flat. The four children, three boys and a girl between the ages of 3 and 10, were sitting quietly on the living room rug, working on a puzzle or reading. When they saw me come in, they just looked up curiously, without the typical commotion or excitement of children seeing a stranger.
Children, this is Aunt Sofia, Mom’s best friend. She’s come all the way from China, Lucía introduced them in Spanish, then repeated in English. The children greeted her quietly in Spanish with a formality beyond their years. “And your husband?” I asked casually as I put down my suitcase. “Barcos is working. He won’t be back until tonight,” Lucía said as she picked up my coat to hang it up. She did it matter-of-factly, but I noticed she smoothed out the wrinkles and hung it perfectly on the hanger.
The house is lovely, I complimented her sincerely, approaching the window that overlooked a small but well-kept garden. It’s not bad, although it’s a hassle to keep everything in order. She smiled, heading towards the kitchen. “What would you like? Tea, coffee. Come on, sit down, I’ll make you something to eat. You must be tired from the trip.” Her enthusiasm was genuine, but I sensed that beneath that cheerfulness lay a taut string about to snap. It was then, while she was in the kitchen and I was helping her wash the fruit, that I heard her make that quiet plea and saw her expression change in an instant, shifting from panic and pleading to a forced calm.
My heart sank. That man, Marcos, even before I’d met him, already made me feel uneasy. Lucía quickly brought some tea and homemade cookies. We sat down in the living room to catch up. He asked about my job, my love life, with a tone of interest that, nevertheless, concealed a hint of pity and superiority. When I told him I was still single and that my job wasn’t anything special, he sighed softly and took my hand.
Sofia, don’t work yourself to death. For a woman, the most important thing is having a family. Look at me. Even though I’m busy and tired, I have stability. Marcos is very good to us. As she said this, her gaze shifted for a moment, and she unconsciously wiped her hands on her apron. “The important thing is that he’s good to you,” I replied, patting my hand and not mentioning the call. The children are very good. How do you manage? They don’t make any fuss.
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