Today, around 11:00 AM, Clara returned home after a 4-month business trip.

“Mom, listen… her apartment was very small, and with the pregnancy—”

“And that’s why you decided to put her in my bed?” Clara interrupted, opening her eyes.

“No…” the father interjected. “That was my idea.”

Clara looked at him.

Straight.

“Explain yourself.”

“Mateo’s room is small. I thought… they would be more comfortable in ours. I moved into his room.”

Silence again.

But it was no longer the same tense silence as before.

It was a strange one. Unstable. As if everyone were walking on something that could break at any moment.

The girl spoke for the first time.

“I’m sorry, ma’am…” he said softly. “I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”

Clara watched her.