in a row.
“¿El abuelo vivirá con nosotros para siempre?” Preguntó, sin mirar hacia arriba mientras moldeaba una pequeña galleta torcida.
I smiled.
“He’ll always be close, baby,” I said. “Always.”
When Ben went to bed, I sat in my usual spot by the window—the same place I’d once stood with a lump in my throat staring at an empty fridge and wondering if disappearing would be easier than explaining.
Now, the reflection in the glass had changed.
La mujer que me miraba fijamente no estaba vaciada por la vergüenza