You tell yourself the universe has a habit of embarrassing you in public, and if it happens again tonight, you will survive it.
Still, the chair across from you remains empty.
Seven o’clock passes. Then seven-ten. Your phone stays silent. The old voice in your head begins to whisper the familiar accusations.
Maybe you misunderstood the time. Maybe you are not worth the effort. Maybe you are the joke again.
You breathe in slowly, remembering what your therapist always says. Do not build a tragedy out of ten minutes. Not yet.
Then you hear it.
A small voice, confident and completely unexpected.
“Excuse me. Are you Sofía?”
You lift your eyes with a polite smile already forming, expecting to see a tall man in a nice jacket standing there.
Instead, you see three identical little girls standing at your table like they have stepped out of a storybook and wandered into your life by mistake.
They cannot be older than five years old.
They wear matching red sweaters. Their blonde curls bounce in perfect spirals. Their big hopeful eyes look like they have never learned the meaning of shame.
They stand shoulder to shoulder like a tiny team on a mission, serious enough to make you blink in confusion.
