“Would you like a hug, sweetheart? Hugs help heal sad hearts.”
Mateo stared at her as if the question were enormous. Then he crawled forward, pressing his cheek against her chest. Carmen held him with a tenderness that was entirely human, not professional. She felt his rigid little body finally surrender—as if he’d found a safe place to rest. Within minutes, Mateo fell asleep in her arms.
That was when Diego appeared in the doorway.
He said nothing. He stood frozen, as if the air were glass. His son was sleeping—truly sleeping. No clenched fists. No dried tears. No look of constant battle. And most astonishing of all—a tiny smile curved Mateo’s lips.
Carmen looked up, startled and flushed.
“Mr. Mendoza… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
Diego raised a hand for silence, his voice barely a whisper.
“How long… has he been like this?”
“About twenty minutes. He fell asleep after the story.”
Diego stepped in as if entering a miracle. He sat on the edge of the bed, unable to look away from his son’s face.
“What did you do?” he asked.
Carmen gently rubbed Mateo’s back in slow circles.
“Nothing special, sir. I just treated him like a child who’s afraid.”