Lucía’s heart raced as she stared at the familiar mark, a twisted emblem from a past she had painstakingly avoided revisiting. Her mind swirled with memories from years ago, memories of a small, scared child and a life that had been ripped apart by circumstances she never fully understood.
As she knelt beside Don Rafael, her thoughts drifted back to the fragmented images of her childhood. She recalled the whispers and the hushed conversations, the nights spent hidden away and the mornings when nothing was the same. The scar on her own side tingled with a phantom pain, reminding her of the day she had received it — a tragic accident, or so she had always believed.
How was it that Don Rafael bore the same mark? The question plagued her, resonating in her soul like an unsolved puzzle. She searched his eyes for answers, but all she found was shared grief and understanding. It was as if he, too, remembered the broken pieces of a shared history — the history of a long-lost family that had been torn apart.
