Without thinking, Diego bought the entire basket, paid triple, and handed her an extra bill she tried to refuse.
“No, sir, it’s too much…”
“It’s not,” he said. “If you or your mother need anything… anything at all… call me.”
He gave her his card with a direct number. She took it as if it were fragile.
Diego remained standing in the rain, watching her walk away barefoot. He wanted to shout a thousand questions, to pull the ring from her hand to confirm the engraving, to run after her and say, “I’m your father”… but he didn’t. He stood there with his heart trembling.
Diego did not follow her.
But the ring did.
Part 2: The Truth That Had Been Hidden for Sixteen Years
That night, in his apartment in Polanco, with the city lights glowing beyond the glass, Diego could not sleep. He took out Ximena’s yellowed letter, folded so many times it seemed ready to tear.
“My Diego… forgive me for not telling you face to face. If I look into your eyes, I won’t leave. I have to go to keep you alive. My brother Damián got involved with dangerous people… I’m three months pregnant. Don’t look for me. Please…”