We spent the night under observation. The next morning, a child psychologist arrived and spoke with Lucía for a long time. I didn’t understand everything she said, but enough to feel a chill: there was fear, conditioning, and secrets kept for far too long.
And then, just when I thought I had heard everything, the psychologist left the room, her face serious.
The psychologist led me to a small room next to the emergency room. Her hands were clasped together, like someone preparing to deliver inevitably painful news.
“Your stepdaughter said that…” she took a breath, “…that it was her biological mother who punished her by withholding food. But she also said something about Javier.”
My throat tightened.
“What did she say?”
“That he knew what was happening. That he saw her crying, that he tried to secretly hide food from her… but that, according to the girl, he told her that ‘she shouldn’t interfere,’ that ‘her mother knew what she was doing.’”
I froze. That didn’t necessarily mean that he had been involved… but it did mean that he hadn’t done anything. Nothing.
“Are you sure?” I asked, my voice breaking.
“Children her age can confuse details, but they don’t create these kinds of patterns out of thin air. And most importantly: she’s saying this out of fear. Fear of disappointing someone. Fear of being punished again.”
Now they sounded terribly different.
The police requested a formal interview with him. When they called him, I was told, he was first surprised, then indignant, and finally nervous. He admitted that the girl’s mother had “harsh” methods, but insisted that he “never imagined it was so serious.”
The officers weren’t convinced.
For me, on the other hand, it broke my heart to realize that he did know… and did nothing.
That night, back home, while I was preparing a mild broth for Lucía, she hugged me from behind.
“Can I eat this?” she asked.
“Of course, darling,” I replied, holding back tears. “You can always eat in this house.”
Finally, a judge issued temporary protective measures for Lucía. Final rulings were still pending, but for the first time, the little girl was truly safe.
One afternoon, while we were playing in the living room, she looked at me with a calm expression, unlike any I had ever seen before.
“Mom… thank you for listening to me that day.”
My heart melted.
“I will always listen to you. Always.”
Javier’s case continued its legal course, and although the process was difficult, I understood that making that call was the right decision. Not only as an adult, but as the person Lucía needed me to be.
And now, if you’ve read this far, I’d like to ask you something:
Would you like me to write a sequel? Perhaps from Lucía’s point of view, from Javier’s, or even an epilogue set years later?
Your interaction will help the story continue to grow.
