PART 2
Rodrigo called for the first time at three in the afternoon.
Don Manuel saw his name on the screen and didn’t answer. Not yet. First, he needed to hear Sofía’s side of the story without anyone trying to scare him.
He took her to eat at a quiet little restaurant near the gated community. They ordered noodle soup, quesadillas, and hibiscus water. Sofía barely touched her food.
“You don’t have to tell me everything today,” Don Manuel told her. “But I need to understand.”
Sofía played with the napkin between her fingers.
“It’s not the first time.”
And then, little by little, as if she were pulling stones from an invisible backpack, she began to speak.
There was a trip to the beach in Huatulco. Mateo went. Sofía was told that “it was too expensive to take four of them.”
There was a weekend at an amusement park in Mexico City. Mateo went. Sofía was left with an aunt she barely knew.
There was a big party for Mateo’s birthday, with a hall, a clown, and a three-tiered cake. Sofia was given a small cake from the supermarket and told not to invite anyone because “the house was a mess.”
There were school meetings where Rodrigo was late because Mateo had soccer practice. There were festivals where Claudia said Sofia exaggerated when she wanted to be seen dancing. There were different gifts, different photos, different hugs.
“Claudia says I’m too sensitive,” Sofia murmured. “That I take everything personally.”
Don Manuel felt the familiar pain of someone who knows that phrase all too well. “Too sensitive” was often a polite way of calling someone who was simply hurt a problem.
“And what does your dad say?”
Sofia shrugged.
“He says Claudia takes care of the house. That he doesn’t want any fights.”
That was the most painful part.
Because sometimes silence isn’t neutrality. Sometimes silence means choosing a side.
That night, at home, Don Manuel looked around without being too intrusive. He found Sofía’s homework stored in a box with old papers, while Mateo’s diplomas were framed. Mateo’s drawings were attached to the refrigerator with magnets; Sofía’s were folded inside a drawer.
Then the messages arrived.
First, Rodrigo:
“Dad, Sofía called you, right? Don’t exaggerate. She’s safe.”
Then Claudia:
“Don Manuel, please don’t make a big deal out of this. Sofía tends to dramatize. Besides, we left food.”
Then another audio message from Rodrigo, with background music and shouts of happy people:
“Dad, seriously, stay with her until Sunday. That way we’ll all be at ease. She’s always happy with you.”
Don Manuel put his cell phone on the table.
Sofía was coloring in silence, but she heard the last sentence.
“See?” she said. “It’s easier for them this way.”
Don Manuel opened his old leather folder. He hadn’t used it in years, but it still contained contacts, forms, legal notes, and phone numbers of people who could provide guidance on abandonment and temporary custody cases.
He didn’t want revenge.
He wanted protection.
He started writing down dates, places, excuses, neighbors’ names, school names, messages, photos. Everything.
The next day, he went to see his neighbor, Mrs. Lupita. She confirmed that Claudia had only told him, “If the girl knocks, just keep an eye on her.” She never asked to stay. She never left keys. She never explained that the girl would be spending the night alone.
Later, he spoke with Sofía’s teacher, who told him something that broke him completely:
“Lately, Sofi has been asking a lot if parents can accidentally forget about their children.”
Don Manuel felt there was no turning back.
On Sunday afternoon, Rodrigo and Claudia returned with suitcases, new caps, and a Disney sweatshirt for Mateo. They entered laughing, until they saw Don Manuel sitting in the living room.
Sofia was on the sofa, hugging a cushion. She didn’t run to them.
Rodrigo swallowed hard.
“Sofi, princess…”
She didn’t look up.
Claudia put the bags on the floor.
“Oh, don’t tell me he’s still going on about that.”
Don Manuel stood up slowly.
“Rodrigo, there’s an envelope in the guardhouse. They left it for you.”
Rodrigo went to get it. When he returned and opened it, the color drained from his face.
“Dad… what’s this?”
Claudia approached and skimmed it.
“Temporary custody? Are you crazy?”
Don Manuel looked at his son without shouting.
“No. It would have been crazy to stay silent.”
Rodrigo clutched the papers.
“Do you want to take my daughter away from me?”
Don Manuel pointed to Sofía, who remained motionless in the armchair.
“No, Rodrigo. I’m trying to make sure your daughter never wonders again why her own family left without her.”
Then Claudia uttered a phrase no one expected:
“Well, if he loves her so much, let him take her. I never asked to raise another woman’s daughter.”
Sofía looked up.
And the ensuing silence made it impossible to wait for part 3.
