The door slammed shut and the deadbolt slid open. Sofia froze in front of it. She carefully sat Mateo on her lap and then used her free hand to knock softly. “Sir, please just let my brothers sit in the shade for a little while.” No one answered. Inside, it was deathly quiet, as if the crying had never happened. Across the street, a woman picked up her phone, then put it down, looked around, and silently drew the curtains.
A man sweeping his yard stopped, frowned, and then turned around. On the castle porch, the doormat still read, “Welcome!” Like a cruel joke. Sofia sank down onto the sidewalk. Her shaking hands could barely hold both children. Lucas, stop crying. Mateo, inhale. Exhale. She swallowed back tears, trying to keep her voice calm for them. I’m here. I’ll find a way. Don’t be afraid. The door opened a crack. Sandra poked her head out and tossed an old cloth bag onto the steps.
There are some diapers in there. Take care and don’t dirty my porch. The door slammed shut again. The sound of the deadbolt dragged on, long and cold. Sofia bent down to pick up the bag. Inside were only a few thin diapers, no milk, no warm washcloths. She clutched it to her chest like a broken hope. Thank you. The words fell into the empty air. The children began to cry again. Mateo coughed, his body shaking. Sofia kissed each of their foreheads. I’m sorry I took too much.
I know I was wrong, but I couldn’t bear to see them crying like that. She stood up, took a few wobbly steps, and sat back down, dizzy. Sweat stuck to her neck, and her hands trembled with hunger and fear. She knew what she had to do. Take them down the street, knock on doors, ask for some milk, some warm water, but her legs felt as weak as noodles. And what she feared most was hearing the same curses hurled from another door.
Don’t cry, Mateo. I’ll go ask. Lucas, look at me. We’re not going to give up. Okay? Sofia rested her forehead against Lucas’s cheek. The warmth of his small body made her eyes sting. Behind them, Ricardo’s voice came through the closed door. “Stay back a little. Don’t stand in front of my house.” His tone carried disdain, accompanied by a half-smile, as if he enjoyed the suffering of the three unfortunate children. Sofia swallowed and stepped back toward the wax.
She leaned against a lamppost, dropped the diaper bag, and picked up her two brothers again. She didn’t dare put them down. “We’ll wait until the sun goes down a bit and then we’ll leave, I promise.” Time dragged. The drone of a lawnmower sounded from a nearby yard. A dog barked from a neighbor’s porch. The two boys’ shallow breathing and intermittent cries weighed like stones in Sofia’s arms.
I don’t know what else to do, Mom. If anyone can hear me, please help us. The words escaped her like a whisper, addressed to no one in particular. She didn’t expect a reply. She only spoke so that the silence wouldn’t swallow her whole.
Chapter 2: The Lamborghini
Then another engine sounded, soft and steady like a bated breath. A dark Lamborghini drove forward and stopped in front of the three siblings. The tinted window slid slowly down. A man in his 60s looked out.
His hair was silver at the temples, his eyes deep. His hands rested calmly on the steering wheel, as if accustomed to holding steady in life’s storms. He didn’t speak immediately. He looked at Sofia, at the flushed faces of the feverish children, at the faint white stain of milk still damp on the girl’s shirt. Sofia parted her lips, her voice, her mouth dry from sleepless nights. Lord, please, just a little milk for my brothers.
