As evening fell, Mario returned to my house.
This time he didn’t play with his toy car. He sat down in a chair and took an old cell phone with a cracked screen out of his backpack. “Grandma,” he said in a low but firm voice, “I want you to hear this.” He typed something and handed me the phone. A recording played. It was Fernanda’s voice whispering, but
Clearly. After the transplant, the test results will be perfect.
Don’t worry. She won’t dare refuse. I dropped the phone. My hands were shaking uncontrollably. I looked at Mario, my little grandson, and saw that his eyes were red, as if he were just as scared as I was. I found it on my mom’s old cell phone. He said, his voice trembling. I don’t know.
What it is, but I thought you should know. I hugged Mario, trying to hold back my tears.
You’re so brave, my boy, I whispered, but inside everything was falling apart. Proof of results. What was Fernanda talking about? I thought about Luis. About the unlabeled jars, César’s suspicious look, the strangely colored pill, the glass of water. They were loose pieces of a puzzle, but
Little by little, they were falling into place, forming an image I didn’t dare face.
That night I didn’t sleep. I sat in my quiet house, listening to the ticking of the clock. Every second, a reminder that Luis’s time was running out. One morning I went to the hospital carrying an old plastic container of hot food. The smell of rice and stewed meat wafted from around the edges.
Luis’s room was white and cold, and the smell of disinfectant was so strong it was hard to breathe.
I’d grown accustomed to the atmosphere, but that day it felt like it was suffocating me. Luis lay there with sunken eyes and a pale face, but he still tried to smile when he saw me. “Mom, you’re home so early!” he said in a voice as weak as a sigh. I put the food on the small table and tried
I smiled, but inside a storm was raging.
The doubts of the previous days. Mario’s question. César’s warning. Everything screamed in my head, giving me no peace. Fernanda was already there, sitting beside Luis’s bed, her gaze fixed on the IV bag that was slowly dripping. She didn’t look at me. She didn’t greet me. She just nodded silently, like
If my presence were obvious.
On the nightstand, I noticed a small pill bottle with the lid ajar, half-hidden under a crumpled paper napkin. The bottle had no label. It was just a white plastic container with some strange blue pills inside. I picked it up, trying to keep my voice steady.
“What medicine is this, Fernanda?” She jumped. She almost leaped and snatched the bottle from my hands so fast it made me take a step back. “They’re just vitamins, Mom,” she said with a smile as fake as a wedding dress. “The doctor prescribed them to help your kidneys.” I nodded, but a
A chill ran down my spine. Fernanda’s smile, the way she snatched the bottle from me.
Everything was wrong, as if she were hiding a secret I shouldn’t know. I sat down next to Luis and started feeding him, but my mind was elsewhere. I was thinking about the unlabeled bottle, about what César had said about the strange medicines Fernanda was hiding. I was thinking about Mario, about his
An innocent, yet sharp question.
What if my dad is sick because someone is giving him medicine? I wanted to ask Fernanda right then and there. I wanted to scream and demand the truth. But I was afraid. Afraid she’d open her mouth. Everything would crumble, and I’d lose Luis forever.
I watched my son struggle to swallow each bite and told myself, “Maria, you have to calm down. You have to find out what’s going on first.” At noon, Cesar arrived at the hospital. He came in with his hands still stained with grease from work and his old, worn-out t-shirt draped over his shoulders. He didn’t say
Nothing. He just sat silently in a corner, watching Fernanda, who was in the hallway, talking to a nurse. When she left, César came over to me and took a small plastic bag out of his backpack.
“Mom, I want you to see this,” he whispered, his voice as taut as a guitar string. He showed me his phone. On the screen were some blurry photos, but clear enough to make my heart stop. It was Fernanda in the back parking lot of the hospital, discreetly taking
She took a small bag from the trunk of her car and handed it to an unknown man.
The man was wearing a black jacket and a cap that covered almost his entire face, but I clearly saw the bag of medicine in Fernanda’s hand. Small bottles identical to the one on the nightstand. “I took these pictures yesterday,” César said, his voice trembling. “I followed her because she seemed very suspicious.”
It was strange how Mom was acting.
I’m afraid she’s doing something to my brother Luis. I was speechless, gripping the phone so tightly my knuckles turned white. The cold hospital floor seemed to suck all the heat out of my body. “César,” I whispered. “Are you sure? Did you hear what they were saying?” César shook his head.
Her head was spinning, her eyes red.
I couldn’t hear clearly, but I saw her give the bag to the man, and he handed her an envelope. “Mom, this isn’t normal.” I looked into César’s eyes. I saw the worry and anger in them, and I knew he wasn’t lying. But I still didn’t want to believe it. Fernanda was Luis’s wife. She had sworn to protect him. How could she…
Do something so terrible? That afternoon, when I got home, Mario came again.
He didn’t run or play like usual, but sat silently in a chair, hugging his backpack. “Grandma,” she said in a low but determined voice, “I want you to listen to something.” She took the old cell phone with the cracked screen out of her backpack and, trembling, played an audio file. Fernanda’s voice echoed…
Whispered, but clear as a knife to my heart.
After the transplant, the data will be complete. Don’t worry, that old woman won’t dare refuse. This result is worth 100 times more. I froze. I dropped the phone on the table, my hands trembling uncontrollably. I looked at Mario, my little grandson, and saw his red eyes squeezing the
My lips were pursed as if holding back tears.
I found it on my mom’s old cell phone. He said, his voice trembling. I don’t know what it is, but I thought you should know. I hugged Mario, feeling as if the whole world was crumbling beneath my feet. You’re so brave, Mario, I whispered, but my voice broke and tears streamed down my face.
Cheeks.
I thought about Luis, the unlabeled jars, César’s photos, Mario’s recording. They were loose pieces, but they were fitting together. Painting a dark picture I didn’t dare face. What was Fernanda doing? What data? What results? And why did she say that? That old woman won’t dare to
I refused. I felt betrayed, not only by Fernanda, but by my own faith in family, in love.
I didn’t sleep that night. I sat in my quiet house listening to the sirens of an ambulance outside, the red and blue lights flashing through the window like cuts to my soul. I thought about Luis, how he was getting weaker every day, the strange medications, the calculating whispers of
Fernanda.
I thought of Cesar, of his suspicion and worry, of his eyes, and of Mario, the nine-year-old boy who had bravely brought me the truth. I clutched my head, feeling like my brain was going to explode. I wanted to run to the hospital, confront Fernanda, scream, and demand an explanation. But I had
