The next day, Mariana dressed simply—jeans, a light blouse, her hair tied back. She met Chayo, the elderly cook, with a stern face.
« Why go to so much trouble? The children don’t notice anything here. And the master even less, » she said coldly.
Mariana ignored the tone.
She learned that since Lucía’s death, the twins had stopped eating. Five nannies had already come and gone — none had stayed.
Dinner was silent. Ricardo, impassive, stared at his phone.
The children remained frozen in front of their plates.
Mariana tried a game: she cut an apple into a star shape.
The children watched her, intrigued. Sofía moved a piece, Emiliano another. They didn’t eat, but they participated.
« It’s a sun, » Sofía finally said.
Mariana smiled. It wasn’t a meal, but it was a start.
Morning pancakes
The next day, Mariana decided to change the rules.
She took the children into the kitchen — despite Chayo’s protests.
« Today, you’re the chefs, » she said with a wink.
They made pancakes together: Sofía plunged her hands into the flour, Emiliano clumsily cracked an egg. Bursts of laughter, shy but sincere, began to fill the room.
When Ricardo entered, he froze. His children were laughing… and eating.
“What’s this?” he asked tensely.
“Breakfast,” Mariana replied calmly.
Sofía timidly raised her hand. « We cooked. »
Ricardo took a breath. « That wasn’t planned. »
Mariana replied softly, « What if, for once, we set the plan aside? »
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