Katrina

Chapter Ten - Story B

The Day Susan Walked Away

The Mendoza house had become a place Susan no longer wanted to call home.

Weeks had passed since Isabella's death, but the grief had settled into every corner. Susan still entered her baby's room, still touched the little clothes she could not bring herself to put away. Some days, she cried until she had no strength left. Other days, she felt nothing at all.

And then she would see Katrina.

Her three-year-old daughter would be playing quietly or sitting beside Rafael, and Susan would feel that familiar resentment rise inside her.

Rafael had told her repeatedly that Katrina was innocent. He had reminded her that the little girl had tried to save her sister.

Susan knew what he believed.

What she could not bear was how easily he continued to love Katrina while she struggled even to look at her.

One morning, she found Rafael helping Katrina with her breakfast. The little girl was talking about something she had seen in the garden, her small face brightening as her father listened.

For a moment, Susan watched them from the doorway.

Then Katrina noticed her.

“Mama!”

She slipped from her chair and hurried toward Susan, her arms raised.

Susan stepped back.

Katrina stopped, confused.

“What's wrong, Mama?”

“Go and finish your breakfast.”

“But I want you.”

“Then go to your father.”

The little girl's face crumpled. Rafael immediately rose from his chair.

“Susan, please.”

She turned on him. “What now, Rafael?”

“She only wants her mother.”

“And I cannot bear it today!”

Her voice rang through the room.

Katrina began to cry.

Rafael crossed the space between them and lifted his daughter into his arms. “That's enough, Susan. She's too young to understand why you're treating her this way.”

Susan stared at him.

“Do you think I don't know how old she is? Do you think I don't remember what happened?”

“I remember every second of it.”

“Then stop defending her!”

“I'm defending our daughter because she doesn't deserve your hatred.”

The words struck harder than Rafael intended.

Susan's expression changed. Her eyes filled, but her voice became cold.

“You have made your choice very clear.”

“This isn't about choosing sides.”

“It always is with you.”

She left the room before he could answer.

---

That evening, Rafael found Susan packing a suitcase.

He stood in the doorway, staring at the clothes spread across the bed.

“What are you doing?”

She continued folding a dress.

“I cannot stay here anymore.”

His stomach tightened. “Susan, we have already lost Isabella. Don't let that loss destroy what remains of our family.”

She let out a bitter laugh.

“You say that as though I haven't tried.”

“I know you're hurting.”

“No, Rafael. You know how to explain my pain. You know how to tell me what I should feel and how I should behave. But you don't understand what it is to look at that child and remember the daughter I lost.”

“She is your daughter too.”

“Stop saying that!”

Susan turned toward him, tears running down her face.

“Every time you defend Katrina, you make me feel as though I'm the only person in this house who has lost something. You comfort her. You reassure her. You tell her she did nothing wrong. And what am I supposed to do with my grief?”

“Let me help you carry it.”

“I don't want your help!”

The silence that followed was devastating.

Rafael looked at his wife, the woman he had loved for years, and realized that he no longer knew how to reach her.

“Susan, please think about the children.”

“I have thought about them.”

“Then think again.”

She closed the suitcase.

“I cannot live like this anymore.”

Rafael's voice grew quiet. “And what happens to Katrina?”

Susan looked away.

For a long moment, she said nothing.

Then she answered, “You wanted to protect her. You wanted to convince everyone that she was innocent. Now you can take care of her.”

Rafael stared at her in disbelief.

“You cannot mean that.”

“I cannot look at her without remembering Isabella. I cannot live in this house and pretend everything is fine. And I cannot spend the rest of my life listening to you tell me how I should feel about my own daughter.”

“She is three years old, Susan.”

“And Isabella was six months old!”

Her voice broke.

She pressed a hand over her mouth, struggling to contain the sob that escaped her.

For one fleeting moment, Rafael thought she might collapse into his arms. He wanted to hold her, to tell her that they could survive this if they faced it together.

But Susan turned away.

“I have nothing left to give this family.”

She lifted her suitcase.

Rafael did not stop her as she walked past him. He stood motionless, struggling to comprehend that the woman he loved was prepared to leave the children behind in the aftermath of their loss.

Then he heard small footsteps in the hallway.

Katrina stood there, clutching her doll.

“Mama?”

Susan stopped.

The little girl approached her cautiously.

“Are you going somewhere?”

Susan looked down at her daughter.

Katrina's eyes searched her face, waiting for the familiar warmth that had once come so easily.

“Can I come with you?”

For a moment, Susan could not speak.

Then she looked away.

“No, Katrina.”

“Why?”

“Because I can't.”

The little girl began to cry.

“Mama, I'm sorry. I won't do it again.”

Susan closed her eyes.

Those words should have broken her heart. Instead, they brought back the memory she had spent weeks trying to escape.

She pulled her suitcase closer.

“Go to your father.”

Then she walked away.

Katrina stood frozen in the hallway, too young to understand why her mother was leaving or why saying sorry had not been enough to make her stay.

Rafael hurried toward her and gathered her into his arms.

“Papa, make Mama come back.”

He held her tightly, unable to give her the answer she needed.

Outside, the sound of a car engine rose and faded.

Susan was gone.

And in the quiet that followed, Rafael held his sobbing daughter while the Mendoza household faced another devastating loss.

Katrina had lost her baby sister.

Now, at only three years old, she had lost her mother's love in a way she would spend the rest of her life trying to understand.