He remembered the neighborhood bakery—Campos Bakery.
The owner was young. Kind. The woman who last year wiped frosting off Lucía’s dress without a single complaint.
At nine that night, Martín drove there with sweaty hands gripping the steering wheel.
The lights were still on.
Behind the glass, a blonde woman cleaned tables, her hair tied back, wearing a white apron.
Martín knocked.
She pointed to the Closed sign.
“Please,” he said.
His voice didn’t sound like a grown man’s.
It sounded like a child’s.
“Just five minutes.”
Sofía Campos opened the door cautiously.
“We’re closed. If you want an order, come back tomorrow.”
“I’m not here for bread,” Martín swallowed. “I’m here with a proposal.”
She crossed her arms.
“If this is sales—”
“It’s about my daughter.”
And when Martín spoke about Lucía, about the question in the classroom, the drawing with two figures, a birthday about to become a wound—his voice broke.
“I need you to pretend to be my wife for seven days,” he blurted, like jumping into icy water. “Just one week. Three days before her birthday, the party, and three days after. So she… so my daughter feels she’s not alone.”
Sofía stared at him like he’d asked for the moon in a paper bag.
“You’re insane.”
“I know,” he said. “And I’ll pay whatever you want.”
She shook her head and moved to close the door.
Martín held it—not violently, just desperately.
“There has to be something you need,” he said. “Something.”
Her expression shifted.
Behind her firmness lived an old exhaustion.
What Martín didn’t know was that earlier that night, Sofía had received a hospital call reminding her that her father’s treatment expired the next day.
And for the first time in months…
The amount he offered could buy time.
A Lie with Details
At dawn, Sofía asked her aunt Marta to cover the bakery for a week.
With a tight stomach, she arrived at Martín’s elegant building, feeling out of place in jeans and a simple sweater.
Martín greeted her nervously, holding a paper.
“This is our story,” he said. “In case anyone asks.”
She read it.
Met at a café. Fell fast. Married privately.
A lie with dates.
“Martín,” she said quietly. “This will hurt her. When it ends… what will you tell her?”
The question hit him hard.
“I didn’t think about it.”
“You should,” Sofía said. “I came for the money—yes. My dad is sick. But we’re playing with the heart of a child who’s already been abandoned.”
The First Night
When they picked up Lucía, the apartment grew tense.
Lucía froze when she saw Sofía.
She hid behind her father’s legs.
Sofía crouched to her level.
“Hi, Lucía. I’m Sofía.”
Lucía studied her, measuring how long people take before leaving.
Sofía pulled out a pink box.
“I brought cookies. Your dad said you like them.”
Lucía took a cautious bite.
“They’re good.”
“My mom taught me how to make them,” Sofía said softly.
“Is your mom here?” Lucía asked.
Sofía felt a sting.
“No… but she left me many good things.”
The Nightmare
That night, Lucía knocked on the guest room door, clutching her teddy bear.
“I had a nightmare,” she whispered. “I dreamed my mommy came back… and left again.”
Sofía opened the door and hugged her without thinking.
Lucía clung to her like her arms were a rope.
“Can I stay?”
Sofía knew she shouldn’t.
But the child was trembling.
“Come,” she whispered.
From the hallway, Martín watched through the cracked door and felt something shift inside him.
Not calculation.
Life.
The Wish That Changed Everything
In the days before the birthday, the apartment stopped feeling like a showroom.
There was flour on the counter.
Laughter in the kitchen.
Crooked braids that somehow looked beautiful.
Lucía tested Sofía constantly, waiting for anger or rejection.
It never came.
On the birthday morning, Sofía finished the cake Lucía had described in detail: a pink and gold princess castle.
Lucía froze when she saw it.
“It’s exactly how I imagined it,” she said, crying.
She hugged Sofía hard.
But the magic cracked when Martín’s mother arrived.
Barbara Solís.
Elegant. Cold. Sharp-eyed.
She studied Sofía like a stain.
“So you’re Sofía,” she said.
The questions came—polite but cutting.
Where are you from?
What do you do?
Who are your parents?
When she learned Sofía was a baker, her gaze hardened.
The Wish Spoken Aloud
At candle time, Martín smiled.
“Make a wish, princess.”
Lucía squeezed her eyes shut.
Then said it out loud.
“I wish Sofía would stay forever.”
Silence fell like a heavy cloth.
Barbara frowned.
Sofía and Martín exchanged a terrified look.
The Ultimatum
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