Chapter 7
The door remained closed.
But now I knew who was on the other side.
Ricardo.
The man my mother called her friend for years.
The man who appeared in the few photographs from my childhood, smiling beside me.
The man I remembered bringing me presents when I was a child.
At that moment, all those memories seemed different.
As if I were looking at them for the first time.
My mother was holding my hand tightly.
I could feel that she was trembling.
"Don't open that door," she whispered.
I looked at her.
- Why?
It took her a few seconds to respond.
Because some people spend years building an image of goodness.
A tear rolled down her face.
— And they do everything they can to keep everyone from finding out what's behind it.
The beat came again.
This time, more calmly.
As if the person outside were certain they would be let in.
Helena, I know you're there.
Ricardo's voice came through the door.
My mother closed her eyes.
He knows my name.
I was confused.
How does he know you're here?
She didn't answer.
And that silence confirmed something that scared me.
Ricardo wasn't looking for us.
He knew exactly where we were.
I picked up my cell phone and texted Helena.
We needed help.
But before she could answer, the doorknob began to move.
My mother stood up quickly.
Gabriel, get the box.
I looked at her.
- What?
— Your father's box.
I held the box against my chest.
I didn't know why, but at that moment it felt like everything my father had left behind was inside her.
The doorknob stopped.
For a few seconds, nobody said anything.
Then Richard said:
Helena, I didn't come here to hurt anyone.
My mother looked at the door.
— You always say that.
There was silence.
Then he replied:
— And you always choose to believe the worst version of me.
Those words confused me.
Because for the first time, I realized that perhaps there was something in that story that I didn't yet know.
Not because Ricardo was innocent.
But because everyone seemed to be hiding something.
My mother took a deep breath.
Gabriel knows.
Ricardo's voice changed.
Little.
But it changed.
What exactly does he know?
I took a step towards the door.
I know my father found out the truth about you.
Silence.
A silence so long it almost seemed like an answer.
Then I heard Ricardo sigh.
— So it finally happened.
I frowned.
Finally?
My mother turned pale.
Ricardo continued:
I knew this day would come.
That annoyed me.
Did you know?
My voice got louder.
— Did you know I would find out everything, and yet you stayed close to my family all these years?
On the other side of the door, he didn't answer immediately.
When she spoke, her voice sounded different.
More tired.
Gabriel, there are things about your father that you still don't know.
I pressed the box.
Don't use my father as an excuse.
I'm not trying to justify myself.
A pause.
I'm trying to stop you from making the same mistake he did.
The sentence confused me.
What mistake?
Nothing.
No response.
My mother looked at me, startled.
As if that question had opened a door that should have remained closed.
Ricardo, go away.
She spoke firmly.
But he replied:
You know I can't.
- Maybe yes.
- No.
His voice became more serious.
Because Gabriel has now found the letter.
My heart raced.
How did he know?
I looked at my mother.
She noticed it too.
Ricardo continued:
The letter your father left wasn't meant to be found now.
I felt a chill.
How do you know about the letter?
This time it was me who asked.
Silence.
Then Ricardo replied:
Because I was the one who helped your father write it.
My breath stopped.
It didn't make sense.
If he was the enemy...
Why would I have helped my father?
You're lying.
My voice came out low.
- Perhaps.
His answer surprised me.
But perhaps the story they've told you all these years is also a lie.
My mother got nervous.
Gabriel, don't listen.
But I was already listening.
Because for the first time someone was saying that there was a part of the story that no one had told.
The door opened slowly.
My mother tried to stop it.
But Ricardo was already going inside.
He looked older than I remembered him.
A tired face.
The eyes of someone who carried years of guilt.
He looked at me.
And for a few seconds he said nothing.
As if I were seeing a person who resembled someone else.
You look like him.
I stood still.
Don't talk like you know my father.
Ricardo lowered his gaze.
I knew him.
He looked at the box in my hands.
And I know exactly what's in there.
My hand gripped the box.
- So tell me.
Ricardo looked up.
Your father didn't disappear because he discovered an affair.
I stood motionless.
Then why?
He took a step forward.
My mother tried to interrupt.
Ricardo, no.
But he continued:
Because he discovered that the project was never created solely by him.
Silence filled the room.
I felt my heart race.
- What do you mean?
Ricardo looked directly at me.
I mean, there's another person who has helped your father from the beginning.
I waited.
But his response was even harder to accept.
— Someone you know.
My throat got dry.
- Who?
Ricardo took a few seconds.
Then he said:
Gabriel... the person who created the first version of the project before your father...
He looked at my mother.
May you like
Then he turned his eyes back to me.
It was his own mother.
