The words cut deeper than any sentence ever could.
For a moment, Ramiro closed his eyes.
Five years.
Five years shouting into silence.
And now the truth had been in reach all along—carried in the memory of a child no one had taken seriously.
“Salomé,” he said again, more urgently now, “what exactly did you hear? Every word. Please.”
The girl took a slow breath.
“I was hiding,” she began. “In the hallway closet. Mom told me to stay there if anything bad happened.”
Ramiro’s stomach twisted.
“I heard arguing,” she continued. “Then something broke. And then… a loud noise.”
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