The words sounded rehearsed. Careful. Afraid.
At Daniel’s apartment in Zapopan, Mateo walked the same way—guarded, precise. At dinner, he refused to sit. He ate standing, pressed against the table. When Daniel gently insisted, Mateo sat for less than a minute before jumping up again like the chair had hurt him.
Daniel’s heart pounded.
He followed his son down the hallway and waited outside the bathroom. When Mateo came out, Daniel knelt until they were eye level and took his hands.
They were cold.
“You’re not in trouble,” Daniel said quietly. “But I need the truth.”
Mateo’s eyes filled instantly. He shook his head, lips pressed tight.
“Dad… I can’t tell you.”
“Why?”
His voice broke.
“Because Mom said if I tell you… it’ll be worse next time.”
The house went silent.
The hum of the fridge.
The ticking clock.
A dog barking somewhere outside.
All of it faded behind one realization:
This wasn’t the first time.
Part 2 — The Truth He Couldn’t Sit With
Daniel lowered his voice even more. “Look at me, Mateo. Whatever it is, we’ll handle it together. But I need to know.”
He didn’t rush him. Just held his hands—steady, solid.