Adrián appeared in the kitchen like an elegant shadow. Impeccable suit, expensive watch, contempt in his eyes.
“What is she doing here?” he spat the words as if they were poison. “Lucía, I warned you. I don’t want your mother in my house.”
“Adrián, please… it’s just for today,” my daughter tried.
He looked me up and down.
“She smells of poverty. She smells of old age. This house is not a refuge for failures.”
I felt the air leave my lungs. I didn’t answer. I never did.
Adrián grabbed my arm roughly and dragged me down the marble hallway. Lucía cried silently. She didn’t dare touch him.
“Out!” he shouted, throwing open the front door. “Take your rags and your useless prayers with you.”
“Adrián, please… it’s raining… I have nowhere to go,” I begged, clutching the doorframe. “I’ll get sick…”
He leaned closer, smiling.
“Then die far away from here, useless old woman.”
And he shoved me.
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