When the little girls reached the old woman, she hugged them with such natural familiarity that Ricardo was shaken to his very core.
« Get away from her. Now. »
His voice echoed across the square, turning several heads.
But the triplets didn’t move. On the contrary, they snuggled even closer to the stranger, who whispered such sweet words to them that Ricardo didn’t understand a single one.
« Papa, why have you never told us about Granny Carmen? » asked Sofía Guadalupe, the three-minute older sister, turning her face towards him with a precision that chilled him to the bone.
Ricardo felt his knees buckle. He had never uttered that name—not once. And, to tell the truth, he didn’t know any Carmen.
How could his daughter have known that name?
« I don’t know this woman, » said Ricardo, trying to keep his voice firm as he approached. « Come here, girls. Right now. »
“But, Papa, she has the same eyes as Mama,” said Valentina Isabel, gently stroking the old woman’s face. “And she smells like the same perfume you keep in your closet.”
Ricardo froze.
How could Valentina speak of eyes when she had never seen them?
And how could she know that scent of Carmen—that of his late wife, which he kept in a locked drawer in his room?
« My boy, » said the old woman, in a hoarse but warm voice, « your daughters have the same golden hair as my Carmen. And the same blue eyes. »
Ricardo felt the world shift.
Carmen was his wife’s name — the wife he had lost three years earlier due to complications during childbirth.
But how could this beggar woman have known such details?
« Who are you? » asked Ricardo, keeping a cautious distance, unable to hide the trembling in his voice.
« Dad, look, » said Camila Fernanda, pointing to the sky. « The clouds are making a heart. »
He instinctively looked up — and, indeed, a heart shape was appearing in the clouds.
But what shocked him was that Camila was pointing precisely in the right direction.
Marisol approached hesitantly.
« Señor Ricardo… how is it possible that they…? »
Ricardo silenced her with a brusque gesture.
« Take the girls back to the car, » he ordered, even though his voice wavered.
« We don’t want to leave, Papá, » protested Sofía. « Abuelita Carmen said she was going to tell us about Mamá. »
A shiver went up his spine.
Something terribly strange was happening.
Her daughters — who depended on their white canes and had difficulty moving even in their own house — had run confidently into a crowded square… and, once snatched away from the beggar woman, had resumed groping, hands outstretched.
Back home, they talked endlessly about Grandma Carmen.
They described her clothes, her smile, even the colors of the flowers around them.
« How do you know all this? » asked Ricardo, glancing worriedly in the rearview mirror.
« We saw them, Papá, » Sofía replied simply.
« You can’t see, » Ricardo insisted, trying to remain calm.
« When you’re near Granny Carmen… yes, you can, » Camila explained. « She showed us how to truly open our eyes. »
Ricardo drove home in heavy silence.
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