When I married Javier and moved with him to Valencia, his five-year-old daughter, Lucía, came to live with us full time. She was a gentle child with large, thoughtful eyes, and from the moment she arrived, I felt a responsibility to give her a warm and stable home. But from the very first week, something worried me deeply. No matter what I cooked, no matter how softly I encouraged her, she simply would not eat.
This concern grew heavier with each passing day. For an older audience who understands the quiet instinct of caregiving, you know that when a child repeatedly refuses food, it’s rarely just about appetite. I prepared simple meals, comforting meals, dishes children often enjoy—yet her plate stayed untouched. She would lower her gaze and whisper the same words night after night:
