The next morning, you could not stop thinking about it while polishing the staircase. Your hands moved over the gold railings, but your mind stayed on the third floor, on the cold room, on Alejandro’s bitter voice saying he was a burden.
No photo description available.You had grown up poor, but you knew one thing rich people sometimes forgot: when someone still feels pain, they are still alive enough to fight.
That evening, you brought his dinner like always.
Alejandro was by the window again, untouched plate from lunch still sitting beside him. He did not turn when you entered.
“Leave it there,” he said.
You placed the tray down. “You fell yesterday because you tried to move too fast.”
He turned his head slowly. “Are you always this direct?”
“When people scare me, yes.”
