He ended the call abruptly, pressing the phone to his forehead as if trying to calm a storm inside him. Aaliyah set the bowl in front of Lucía with a gentle smile.
“Here you go, sweetheart. I made this the way my mom did when she wanted me to feel safe.”
But the moment the spoon touched Lucía’s lips, the girl stiffened. Tears welled up—not from pain, Aaliyah realized, but from something deeper. Older. Something that had nothing to do with her body.
“You can eat,” Leonardo whispered. “No one… no one will scold you.”
Scold her for eating?
The thought hit Aaliyah like ice water. Trembling, Lucía lifted the spoon again. Each sip looked like an impossible act of courage. Her small shoulders shook with every breath, her eyes darting as if she expected punishment to fall from the ceiling.
Aaliyah knelt beside her, gently wiping the girl’s cheeks.
“You’re safe here, Princess,” she whispered. “Nothing bad can happen to you tonight.”
For a moment, Lucía leaned into her touch—fragile, hopeful—and something inside Aaliyah shattered. This wasn’t an illness. This was fear carved into a child’s body. And it was only the beginning.