Manuel and I sat there, stunned, as the reality of our abandonment sank in. The sun beat down mercilessly, but it was the coldness of our children’s actions that truly chilled us. We watched their car speed away, a trail of dust settling in their wake, leaving us alone on that deserted highway. In the oppressive silence, I turned to Manuel, seeking solace amidst the heartbreak. His eyes, usually so full of warmth and wisdom, were now clouded with sorrow and disbelief.
But it was then, as I reached for his hand, that my fingers brushed against the crumpled edge of an envelope hidden deep in his pocket. Manuel’s eyes met mine, a flicker of life returning to them, as he gently pulled it out. “I didn’t want to show you this, Elena,” he began, his voice barely a whisper, “but it seems fate has chosen this moment.”
