POV Lucía
I will never forget that night. Never. It all began with that call at three in the morning, the ringtone cutting through the silence like a knife, announcing my mother’s crisis. I ran to the hospital under the rain, climbing the stairs breathlessly, holding my belly as the irregular contractions bent me in half, but I kept going. I arrived just in time for her final moments, her whispered words, her hand gripping mine with impossible strength. “Look through my things… you’ll find something… that will change your life…” And then, the monitor went flat. Silence. Emptiness.
I stumbled into the hallway, blinded by tears, grief mixing with the contractions that intensified, my body at its limit at eight months pregnant. And there I found him: Adrián, broken, crying, exploding in rag
