“I am Lucía,” she whispers. “And we are really good at keeping secrets. Except this one. Dad is going to find out soon.”
A laugh escapes you before you can stop it. Real and startled. The kind you have not had in too long.
“Alright, ladies,” you say, trying to sound composed. “How did you even know I would be here?”
Renata leans forward, elbows on the table, seriousness dialed all the way up.
“We heard Dad on the phone with Aunt Paola,” she explains. “He said he was meeting someone named Sofía at Café Jacaranda at seven o’clock.”
Valentina nods vigorously.
“He was nervous. Super nervous,” she says. “He was fixing his tie in the mirror.”
Lucía adds, like a scientist providing the final data point, “He never fixes his tie. So we knew it was important.”
Your stomach does a small flip you do not fully understand.
A man who tries for a date. A man who gets nervous. A man whose children are invested enough to stage a tiny mission for his happiness.
It is adorable, yes. It is also a little heartbreaking.
“And you decided to come before him?” you ask, keeping your eyebrows neutral while your mind races.
Valentina corrects you immediately, offended by the implication.
“Not before,” she says. “It is because he had to go back to work. Something broke with the servers, and he fixes things.”
Renata’s mouth tightens like she is carrying responsibility too big for her age.
“But we did not want you to think he forgot,” she says. “He was excited. He even burned the pancakes.”
Lucía shrugs calmly.
“He always burns pancakes,” she says. “But today was worse.”
You press your lips together to keep from laughing again, and it hits you that these girls are not just clever.
They are watching their father closely. They know his habits, his sadness, his effort. They know what his bravery looks like in small domestic disasters.
You glance toward the door instinctively, half expecting this mysterious man to burst in at any second.
“So did you convince a babysitter to bring you?” you ask.
The girls exchange a look that has the unmistakable energy of shared guilt.
