The sky of Seville was beginning to darken, painting the late afternoon with soft orange hues. I watched the calm sway of the leaves in the yard from the kitchen window, while the steam from my cup of tea warmed my hands.
Giulia had fallen asleep early, tired from the commotion of the past few days — and perhaps also feeling, even without understanding, the turmoil hanging over the adults around her.
Miguel had locked himself in the study after putting her to bed. I knew he needed space. Maybe I did too.
But my heart felt tight.
So tight that the only thing I could do was grab my phone, slip on my sandals, and go to the guest room where I was sleeping — where, somehow, I had been trying to maintain an imaginary boundary between my life and theirs.
I sat on the edge of the bed, pulled
