I watched him become a father. He painstakingly learned to braid hair, shouted like a madman on the sidelines during school football matches, and read bedtime stories in funny voices that made Lucía burst out laughing. And my daughter blossomed under his watchful eye, like a plant finally receiving the sunshine it had been waiting for.
One evening, after Lucía had fallen asleep, Miguel stayed. The tension between us had softened, replaced by a tender familiarity, but there remained this unexplored territory: “us”.
“I’ve thought about it a lot,” he said in a deep voice. “You left because you thought I’d choose my career over love. But Julia…” He took my hands in his, and that simple touch electrified me. “My dream now is you. You and Lucía.”
I stopped breathing.
“I’ve never stopped loving you,” he continued, his gray eyes fixed on mine. “Not a single day in eight years. Eight years ago, I lost you because of fear. My fear of not being good enough, your fear of being a burden. I don’t want to lose you again because of pride.”
My eyes filled with tears. — Miguel…
« I forgive you, » he said softly. « Not because it didn’t hurt, because it hurt like hell. But because I don’t want anger to decide our future. Let’s start over. Let’s be a family. A real one. »
I hesitated; fear was still there, that old companion. But I saw in her eyes the same vulnerability I had seen that Christmas Eve. I nodded, trembling. « Okay. Let’s try. »
When he kissed me, after all this time, it was like coming home.
The months passed. We didn’t rush things. We went out. We talked for hours, rebuilt the broken bridges, filled the voids of eight years of silence. We rediscovered ourselves, as we had become.
I found a new job. Miguel had discreetly put me in touch with a publishing house that appreciated my profile and my passion for books. Lucía happily divided her time between our two homes, always returning full of stories and experiences from « Science Saturdays with Dad. »
On the anniversary of that famous Christmas Eve, Miguel took me back to Calle Serrano. It was still snowing, big, slow-moving flakes like the first time.
— Do you remember what Lucía said that night? — he asked, stopping in front of the Suárez jewelry store.
I smile when I think about it. — She said that when she grew up, she would buy me a necklace here.
— Well, she’s only eight years old. So I thought I’d get a head start.
He knelt in the snow. The world around us dissolved once more. He opened a small blue velvet box. Inside, a diamond ring captured all the Christmas lights.
« Julia Castro, » he said, his voice firm despite the emotion that made her tremble. « Eight years ago, we lost everything because we didn’t talk. So I’m going to ask you clearly today: will you marry me? Will you let me love you the way I should have from the beginning? »
My vision blurred. — Yes — I breathed. — A thousand times yes.
The people around us, who had stopped, burst into applause as he slipped the ring onto my finger. In the same street where our lives had been shattered, they were beginning again.
Our wedding was small and intimate, on a spring afternoon when sunlight filtered through the trees in Retiro Park. Lucía was our little bridesmaid in a pink dress, and her speech completely won us over.
« I asked Santa for a dad every year, » she said, clutching the microphone in her small hands. « And last Christmas, he answered me. But not because Santa brought him to me. Because Mommy and Daddy were reunited. »
Miguel and I cried openly while holding her close, our laughter mingling with tears.
Later, while watching our guests dance, Miguel put his arms around me.
« Some things, » he murmured, « are meant to happen. We just took the long way around. »
« It was a very, very long road, » I agreed, smiling against his chest. « But we made it. »
We kissed under the fairy lights, and I felt as if the last page of a story rewritten by fate was finally closing.
A year later, I was pushing a stroller down that same snowy street. Inside slept our son, Daniel, his little fist tucked against his cheek. Miguel walked beside me, one arm around my shoulders, while Lucía skipped ahead, pointing out the Christmas lights.
As we stopped again in front of Suárez Jewelry, Lucía turned around with a huge smile. « Do you remember when I said I’d buy Mom a necklace here? I always will, when I grow up! »
Miguel burst out laughing and pulled us all into a huge hug. — Deal — he said.
As the snowflakes swirled around us, I looked at my family: the man I had been so afraid of losing, the little girl who had brought us together, the baby who completed us. And I understood that home was not a place.
We were the home.
Love had found its way back, through mistakes, years and fear, and it had emerged stronger.
And as we walked hand in hand through the snow, I whispered to myself:
« This time, I won’t run away. »
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