“If you had come back three years ago and faced what you had done, I might have hated you, we might have ended, but you would have been a man, and I would have known who I was grieving.

Instead you stole your brother’s death and my right to know the truth of my own life.” And then, from the hallway, a small voice.

Camila stood there with her headphones pushed down around her neck, looking at the man kneeling on the floor.

“Daddy?” she said, uncertainly.

“Are you Daddy Santiago?” No one could shield her from it anymore.

Santiago collapsed into his hands, sobbing, but Camila did not run to him.