2 septembre 2026

When our children returned to the hospital the next morning—pretending to be attentive, pretending to care—my bed was empty.

Diego frowned.

“Transferred? Where?”

The nurse shrugged slightly.

“That’s confidential information.”

Graciela tried to smile, but her nervousness was obvious.

“We’re his children.”

“I know,” the nurse replied calmly. “But he specifically requested that his location not be disclosed.”

The two of them looked at each other.

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