PART 2
By dawn, the story had already been condemned online:
“Single father abandons his sick daughter for four days.”
Blurry photos of the house, the ambulance, and even Lucía’s stuffed animal lying on a stretcher were shared. Thousands of people insulted Diego Morales without knowing who he was, what had happened, or why his daughter kept asking for him.
At the La Villa Children’s Hospital, Lucía woke up hugging Pancho. Nurse Marisol tucked her blanket in.
“You’re safe now, my love.”
Lucía looked toward the door.
“Has my dad arrived yet?”
Marisol hesitated.
“They’re looking for him.”
A while later, Dr. Cárdenas came in with the file in her hand. Officer Elena and Mariana Salgado, a social worker, were with her.
“Diego called me three days ago,” the doctor said. “He was desperate. Lucía had been suffering from abdominal pain for weeks. He wanted to get her tested, but his insurance didn’t cover everything.”
“Desperate how?” Mariana asked.
“He said he’d sell his motorcycle if necessary. He begged me not to let any more time pass.”
Elena frowned.
“That doesn’t sound like someone abandoning their daughter.”
“No,” the doctor replied. “It sounds like a terrified father.”
Mariana checked Lucía’s sweatshirt and put it in a clean bag. In the pocket, she found a folded pharmacy receipt. On the back, written in blue ink, was a hurried phrase:
“Call Cárdenas. Don’t wait.”
Meanwhile, Elena and Mariana returned to the house. In Diego’s bedroom, they found his wallet on the nightstand, his keys next to a photo of Lucía dressed as an Adelita at a school festival, and several receipts for small loans.
On the kitchen calendar were notes written in weary handwriting:
“Double shift.”
“Lucía’s appointment.”
“Buy medicine.”
“Pay the electricity bill.”
“Call the insurance company again.”
Mariana felt embarrassed for all the comments she had read that morning. This house didn’t tell the story of abandonment. It told the story of someone trying to hold onto their world with empty hands.
As they were leaving, Don Eusebio, an elderly neighbor, approached under a broken umbrella.
“I saw Diego that afternoon,” he said softly. “He was running to the pharmacy, soaking wet.” She yelled at me that the
