A week later, Javier had to travel to Madrid for work for three days. That first night alone, while I was cleaning the kitchen, I heard soft footsteps behind me. It was Lucía, her pajamas wrinkled and with a serious expression I’d never seen on her little face.
“Can’t you sleep, sweetheart?” I asked, crouching down.
She shook her head, clutching her stuffed animal to her chest. Her lips were trembling.
“Mom… I need to tell you something.”
Those words chilled me to the bone. I picked her up and we sat down on the sofa. She looked around, as if making sure no one else was there, and then whispered something that took my breath away.
Such a short, fragile, devastating sentence… I immediately stood up, trembling, and went straight to the phone.
“This can’t wait,” I thought as I dialed.
When the police answered, my voice barely came out.
“I’m… I’m a little girl’s stepmother. And my stepdaughter just told me something very serious.”
The officer asked me to explain, but I could barely speak. Lucía was still by my side, holding me tightly.
