The blackboard was already covered in numbers and mathematical symbols when Lucía, the elementary school teacher, turned to the class with an attentive gaze. There was something about that day that had her uneasy, although she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Still holding the chalk, she observed each of her young students’ faces, whether focused or distracted. But it was when she focused on one in particular that her discomfort intensified: Emilio. A boy of barely 10 years old, known for his intelligence, creativity, and politeness.

Always engaged, curious, kind. But this morning he stood out for another reason. More than two hours had passed since class began, and he was still standing by his desk, carefully writing in his notebook, attentive to everything the teacher said. He showed no signs of fatigue, nor was he distracted. He simply wouldn’t sit down. “Emilio, dear, you can sit down so I can write more clearly,” Lucía said, in that gentle tone she used with all her students, especially the more sensitive ones.

The boy looked at her and tried to smile. A fragile, brief, forced smile. “I’m fine, Señora Lucía. I prefer this way. I feel more comfortable standing,” he replied, moving his shoulders as if stretching relieved something. The teacher narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Are you sure? Sitting down will help you rest your notebook better; you’ll write faster.” “Yes, really, I promise,” he replied quickly, looking away. Lucía noticed that some of the children began to exchange curious glances. It was strange, no doubt. Who in their right mind would prefer to spend the entire class standing up?

Still, the teacher decided not to insist at that moment. Perhaps it was some childish bet, some silly dare, an inside joke he still didn’t understand. After all, the boy was paying attention, his notebook was up to date, and that was what mattered. But when the bell rang announcing the end of class, Lucía approached discreetly. “Emilio, are you leaving already?” she asked in the most casual tone possible. “Yes, my dad should be outside by now,” he said, quickly closing his notebook.

—Oh, yes… but it’s usually your mom who comes for you, right? The boy nodded and replied, —It’s just that my mom is away on vacation; she’ll be back in a few days. Right now, I’m alone with my dad. —This answer made Lucía raise an eyebrow. Carolina, Emilio’s mother, was a smiling, friendly woman, always ready to chat at the school gates. His father, on the other hand… well, Lucía had never seen him up close. —I see, she said.

But tell me one thing, is this standing up some kind of bet, a challenge with your friends? The boy shook his head firmly. “It’s nothing like that, teacher. It just feels better this way. Sitting down is a little uncomfortable for me today, but it’ll pass. Can I go?” “Sure, honey, just take care of yourself.” “Yes, yes, ma’am. My dad doesn’t like to wait,” he replied as he walked away. Lucía watched him. It was then that something else caught her attention: the boy’s way of walking.

His steps were short, careful, almost as if he were avoiding any weight on any part of his body. The way he moved his legs and held his posture too straight… it wasn’t natural. Something wasn’t right. When he saw the boy’s father on the other side of the fence, a chill ran down his spine. The man was tall, with hard features, a closed expression, and dark clothing. He had that kind of unsettling presence, cold, silent. Emilio ran toward him, and the two soon held hands and disappeared from sight.

And for some reason she couldn’t explain, Lucía felt a knot in her chest. The next morning, the same behavior repeated itself. As soon as class started, Emilio stood up and stood next to his desk, writing standing up just like the day before. And once again, he refused to sit down. The teacher, now even more suspicious, decided not to insist in front of the other students. She didn’t want to expose the boy or make him feel uncomfortable, but she was determined to understand what was going on.

 

She waited patiently until recess, and when the students went out into the courtyard, she discreetly called Emilio over to talk. “Emilio, can I talk to you for a moment?” Lucía said calmly. “Sure, teacher,” he replied, walking over to her. “We can talk right here, in the corner of the classroom,” Lucía suggested, pointing to the back of the room where there was less traffic. “You can sit if you want.” But he shook his head. “I prefer to stand; it’s more comfortable.” Lucía sighed and tried another approach.

“Look, I understand that sometimes you want to change things up, break your routine. Standing helps stave off sleepiness, and even improves circulation,” she said in a sympathetic tone. “But not sitting down for even a moment… are you sure everything is okay?” Emilio hesitated. He looked down at his feet and bit his lower lip for a moment. He seemed to consider lying, but then, in a barely audible whisper, he said, “It just hurts a little, Professor… when I sit down.” Lucía immediately frowned.

“Did you hurt yourself?” “It wasn’t exactly a wound, it’s just a sore back,” he said, lowering his head in shame. “Back?” she repeated, trying to understand. “Do you mean the back of the body?” Emilio nodded shyly. The teacher was silent for a second. “Do you want to show me or tell me how it happened?” “No need, teacher,” he said quickly. “It’ll pass. I just have to stand more than I sit, and then it gets better.” As if to test it, he carefully sat down on his desk.

But it was impossible not to notice the pained expression on his face: he couldn’t stand it for two seconds and immediately stood up, discreetly rubbing the back of his legs. “It’s still bothering me… but really, it’ll pass. It always does,” he insisted, forcing a smile. Lucía watched him more closely than ever. Something very strange was happening. “Darling, did you ever go to the doctor about this pain?” Lucía asked, trying to maintain the most affectionate and welcoming tone possible. That was how she treated her students, especially when she sensed there was suffering hidden behind a shy smile.

Emilio gently shook his head, avoiding the teacher’s gaze. “No, teacher. My dad said it’s not necessary, that it’ll pass.” Lucía pressed her lips together, feeling her stomach churn at that answer. “But, my love… since when have you felt that pain? Was it after a fall? Did something happen?” He hesitated, seemed to think for a moment, and then tried to evade: “I was doing something with my dad, but that’s all.” “What, Emilio?” she insisted, bending down to be at his eye level.

Can you tell me? Was it a game gone wrong, an accident? The boy bit his lip and looked away again. “It wasn’t anything serious, Teacher… just something. But I’m fine, I swear.” Lucía took a deep breath, her heart pounding, as if she was preparing to hear something very difficult. “Emilio,” she began in an even softer tone, almost in a whisper, “if your dad did something to you, if he hit you, if he hurt you, you can trust me.”

I’m here to protect you, okay? You don’t have to be afraid.’ The response was immediate, almost defensive: ‘No! My dad has never hit me, ever.’ The teacher opened her eyes, surprised by his firmness. But before she could ask anything else, he quickly ended the conversation. ‘I’m really fine. Now I’d like to go eat my snack, Teacher… otherwise, recess is over.’ Lucía hesitated for a moment, but knew that pressuring him would be useless.

“Okay, my love. Go. But remember: I’m here, okay? Always.” The boy nodded and hurried out of the classroom. Lucía stood there, her eyes fixed on the door where Emilio had left. Something was very wrong. She felt it in every fiber of her body and could no longer ignore it. Determined, she went directly to the principal’s office. She knocked firmly on the door and, upon receiving permission, walked to Patricia’s desk with determined steps. “Patricia, I need to talk to you.”

“It’s serious,” she said, her gaze tense. The principal immediately noticed that this wasn’t just any ordinary problem. “Of course, Lucía. What happened?” The teacher sat down and began to describe in detail everything she had observed over the past two days. She explained that Emilio was taking his classes standing up, that he said he felt pain when he sat down, and that he refused to go to the doctor, apparently on his father’s orders. “He told me his back hurt,” Lucía explained, discreetly gesturing to the back of his body, “and that he was doing something with his dad, but he wouldn’t say what it was.”

Patricia opened her eyes in alarm. “Do you think his father could be doing something to him?” Lucía hesitated, remained silent for a few seconds, reflecting, and then, with a lump in her throat, replied: “Patricia, I know this is a very serious accusation, I know… but it’s the only thing that comes to mind. The child is in pain, and my heart is very, very heavy. And if they’re hurting him… I can’t remain silent.” The principal leaned back in her chair, visibly worried. “Lucia, this is very serious.”

We can’t accuse anyone without proof, you know that. Least of all the boy’s own father. “I know,” the teacher replied, looking down. “But I also can’t pretend I didn’t see anything. I need to find out exactly what’s going on… for him.” Patricia was silent for a few seconds, thoughtful. Suddenly, she opened a drawer and took out a small silver device. “This is a tape recorder. I use it when I need to record sensitive meetings,” she explained, placing the object on the table. “It’s almost invisible; no one will notice.”

We can put it in Emilio’s backpack, see if he says anything at home or if his father mentions anything. If something’s going on, maybe we’ll have a lead. And if not… well, at least we can rest easy. I know it’s not right to do something like this, but at least we’ll know the truth before accusing or filing a complaint. Lucía nodded without hesitation. “Let’s do it.” The decision was made right there, with the weight of two professionals who knew the seriousness of what they were about to do, but also knew that failure to act could be even worse.

A few minutes later, with Patricia’s help, Lucía returned to the classroom during recess and carefully hid the recorder at the bottom of Emilio’s backpack. She chose a rarely opened pocket with an inside zipper, a place almost impossible for a child to detect. The rest of the class proceeded as usual. Emilio remained standing, his face calm, although his eyes betrayed constant discomfort. Lucía tried to stay focused on the content, but she found it impossible to tear her gaze away from him.

 

When the bell rang announcing the end of the day, most of the children ran for the exit. But Emilio, once again, was the last to pack up his things. He was as careful as ever, as if every movement was difficult for him. The teacher approached him and, as she often did with her most beloved students, kissed him on the forehead. “You know you can count on me for anything, right?” she said, her voice full of affection.

Emilio smiled shyly. “I know, teacher. Thank you.” She watched him walk away slowly, as if the discomfort was still there. Outside, that man with the stern expression was already waiting for him: the father. They met without saying anything; they just held hands and walked away together, like the day before. But there was something about the way the man walked, the way he held the boy’s hand, that sent a shiver down the teacher’s spine.

It was as if a dark cloud had enveloped them, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was about to discover a truth that wouldn’t be easy to swallow. The next morning, Lucía arrived earlier than usual. Her heart was pounding, anxiety pounding in her chest like a runaway drum. She could barely concentrate on anything else: all she wanted was to see Emilio walk through the classroom door and, above all, to know what the small recorder hidden in his backpack had captured.

When the boy finally appeared in the hallway, he was walking in the same strange way: with short, careful steps, as if he were balancing on broken glass. When he saw her, he approached and spoke softly: “It hurts a little more today, Teacher, but it will pass. I’m going to have to stay on my feet,” he said, trying to smile, although the discomfort was clearly reflected on his face. Lucía just nodded. “It’s okay, my love. Stay however you feel best,” she replied gently, choosing not to insist at that moment.

She knew that, sooner or later, the truth would come out… and maybe that would be the day. She waited patiently for recess. When the class finally went out to the playground, the teacher approached Emilio’s backpack and, very carefully, removed the small tape recorder she had hidden the day before. It was exactly where she had placed it. Lucía took a deep breath and went directly to the principal’s office, holding the device securely in her hands.

Patricia was already waiting for her, her face tense. “Did you get it?” she asked, getting up from her chair. “I got it, it was in the same place,” Lucía replied, handing her the recorder. They both sat next to each other, their eyes fixed on the device. Patricia pressed the play button, and for a few minutes, they only heard the ambient noise of the classroom: the scraping of chairs, children’s laughter, the low voices of children talking. Then they fast-forwarded to the end of the class, when Emilio was leaving school with his father.

Footsteps. Silence. And then, the man’s voice, deep and measured: “We’re going to do that again today,” he said directly, without explaining what. “Dad, couldn’t we not do it today?” Emilio asked, his voice visibly tired. “It’s bothering me… I couldn’t even sit properly today. The teacher is getting suspicious.” The pause between one sentence and the next was distressing. Then, the man’s tone changed: “What did she ask you?” he inquired, his voice harder, tense, as if he were holding back his anger. “She asked if you had hit me.”

I told her no, that you never did that. But she thinks there’s something weird because I just want to stand up,” the boy explained nervously. Another pause. “Did you tell her what we’re doing in secret?” his father asked firmly. “No, Dad, I didn’t tell anyone. Not even my friends. You said it was a secret, and I’m keeping it,” Emilio replied in a low voice, almost as if he was afraid of disappointing him. Across the desk, Patricia and Lucía looked at each other, distressed.

“That’s it, son,” the man said, now sounding more relieved. “You’re a good boy. No one can know what we do in secret, do you understand? No one.” “I understand,” Emilio replied. “Since you’re a little sore today, we’ll take it slower, okay?” the man continued. “But in the next few days, until your mom gets back, we have to keep going. And if she calls, don’t tell her anything, okay?” “Okay,” the boy replied. And then his father finished: “If the teacher asks again, tell her you fell on your butt or something.”

But don’t tell the truth, because if he finds out… your dad’s going to be in trouble. Promise? “I promise,” Emilio said, thus closing the recording. The silence that followed was more deafening than any scream. Lucía gripped the recorder so tightly that her fingers began to tremble. Her heart was racing, her face pale. “I knew it…” she murmured, her voice breaking. “Patricia, I knew it. That man is doing something to the boy. Listen: he’s forcing him to hide it, to lie… he said he’ll be in trouble if the truth gets out.”

The principal sighed deeply, trying to remain calm. Her gaze also reflected discomfort, but her posture remained firm. “Apparently, yes… it’s something serious,” she said, still thoughtful. “Then let’s call the police right now,” Lucía exclaimed, standing up abruptly from her chair. “We have to protect Emilio. He’s being threatened, he’s in pain, he’s hiding something… it’s absurd to let this continue!” “Lucia, calm down,” Patricia urged, standing up as well. “I understand your anguish; my heart is in my mouth too.”

But we can’t go around accusing the father without knowing exactly what’s going on. That’s extremely serious. “What he’s doing to his son is even more serious,” the teacher replied, tears in her eyes. “But what exactly is he doing to him?” Patricia questioned, trying to maintain logic. “The recording doesn’t reveal what it is; it only shows that they’re hiding something. It could be something serious, yes, but it could also be something else. And if we call the police now and we’re wrong, the child could be separated from his family, and the father could go to jail.”

“So what do we do?” Lucía asked, her voice trembling. “Should we just sit back and wait for the worst?” “No, not at all,” the headmistress replied. “But we have to take it step by step. The most sensible thing now is to contact Emilio’s mother. She might give us some clues; maybe she knows what’s happening or can help us understand.” Lucía took a deep breath. “But he’s away…” was what the boy told me. “Then find out where he is,” Patricia said firmly.

If we want to get to the truth, we have to talk to the mother. Only she can confirm or deny what’s happening in that house. The teacher nodded slowly. She felt an urgency burning in her chest, but she knew the principal was right. The next step was to find out where Carolina, Emilio’s mother, was. And she would do that that very day. Lucía could no longer hide her anguish: she was determined; she needed to find out what was happening to Emilio and prevent anything worse from happening.

It was her mission: as an educator, as a woman, as a human being. That afternoon, as the students were organizing themselves at their desks, she approached the boy once more. “Hello, my love, how are you today? Does it still hurt?” she asked in a low voice, crouching down beside his desk. Emilio nodded, without looking up from his notebook. “It still hurts a little, teacher… but it’s getting better. It’ll be gone soon.” She tried to smile, but it was incomplete. Then she adopted a softer tone: “You told me the other day that your mom was away on a trip… I remembered.”

Where exactly did she go? Emilio didn’t hesitate: “She went to my aunt’s house, a teacher. She lives in the interior of the state. My aunt is going to have a baby, and my mom went to help her with things. I didn’t go because I have classes, right?” Lucía nodded, maintaining a serene expression even though inside she was boiling. She felt she had to take a step further. “I understand, dear. And tell me something… your father is a good man. He treats you well, right? He never, ever did anything wrong to you?”

Or did he? The boy’s eyes widened slightly, surprised by the question. He sat up straight in his seat and quickly answered, “My dad is good, yes. He doesn’t do anything wrong. Right? Why… why are you asking me that?” The teacher took a deep breath and replied gently, “Oh, it’s not for nothing, my love. I just wanted to know. I’m curious to get to know your families better.” At that moment, the bell rang: it was the end of the shift. Lucía said goodbye affectionately, gently tapping him on the shoulder.

—Go with God, Emilio. Take care, okay? —Outside, as in previous days, the boy met his father. As soon as they saw each other, Emilio began to speak in a low voice as they walked: —The teacher suspects something, Dad… but I swear I didn’t say anything. I promised and I’m keeping it. —The man ran his hand through his hair, stroking it with a calculated, almost mechanical gesture. —You’re a good boy, very strong, —he said, forcing a smile. —Today we’re going to do something very fun.

“Yes…” Emilio replied, but the boy’s eyes spoke volumes. There was no brightness or enthusiasm, only tiredness and discomfort. As the two walked away hand in hand, Lucía was already back with Patricia in the principal’s office. The teacher recounted what the boy had told her. The principal didn’t hesitate: she grabbed her cell phone and began searching quickly. “Interior of the state… pregnant sister…” If we cross-reference that information with the boy’s last name and his school record, I think we can find something.

A short time later, with an address written on a piece of paper, they both got into the school car and headed inland. Neither of them said much during the trip. The atmosphere inside was tense. After several hours on the road, they finally arrived. It was a simple house with a cream-colored facade and a low wooden gate. Lucía rang the doorbell with a trembling hand, while Patricia looked around intently. The door opened quickly, and a woman with dark hair tied back in a messy bun appeared.

She was wearing comfortable clothes, typical of someone helping out around the house. It was Carolina. Seeing who was standing in front of her, the woman’s expression immediately changed. Her eyes widened in obvious surprise. “Lucia? Patricia?” she asked, confused and nervous. “What are you doing here? Did something happen to my son? Was it at school?” Patricia stepped forward, raising her hands to calm her. “Calm down, Carolina. Nothing happened to Emilio, he’s fine. We just need to talk to you. We know coming all the way here unannounced may seem strange, but it was necessary.”

Emilio’s mother frowned, not understanding anything. “If he’s okay… then why did you come all the way here? What happened? Please tell me the truth,” she said, visibly confused. Lucía then stepped forward: “We know Emilio is physically fine, but we have reason to believe something is going on outside of school. Something he’s hiding… and we think you could help us understand it.” “But how so?” Carolina replied, increasingly distressed. Patricia tried to soften her tone. “Can you talk to us now?”

It’s important. Carolina looked inside the house for a moment, took a deep breath, and then replied, “Even if I couldn’t, I would do my best. Please come in.” The two women entered and sat in the living room of Carolina’s sister’s house, which also seemed simple and welcoming: a worn sofa, a crocheted rug, the scent of coffee in the air. Once everyone was settled, Carolina asked again, “So… now tell me, what exactly is happening to my son?”

Lucía spoke up: “For the past few days, Emilio has refused to sit in class. He said it hurts, he said it bothers him back there… and that’s why he’s standing all the time. When I asked him, he said the pain was because he was doing something with his father, but he wouldn’t say what it was.” Carolina listened attentively, frowning. “And he also said his father didn’t want to take him to the doctor, that it would go away soon,” Lucía added.

Patricia then explained that they were concerned about the relationship between Emilio and his father, as the boy seemed to be hiding something and was showing signs of fear. “And since you’re away, we thought it would be important to hear from you, to know what their relationship is like… because it could be serious.” Carolina’s expression changed immediately. She raised her eyebrows and sat up straighter on the couch. “Wait a minute… are you insinuating that my husband is doing something wrong with Emilio? Is that what you’re saying?”

[Narrative break / Reader interaction] Before we continue and find out what was really happening to Emilio and the truth behind what he and his father were doing in secret, tell me one thing: Do you think the principal and teacher were right to look for the boy’s mother? Yes or no? Take this opportunity to tell me from which city you’re watching this video, and I’ll mark your comment with a beautiful heart. [End of narrative break] Lucía’s chest felt tight at Carolina’s reaction.

Emilio’s mother was visibly offended by the suspicion. Even so, the teacher maintained a firm but respectful tone. “Carolina, we considered all the possibilities. We don’t have any concrete proof, but we came to that conclusion. That’s why we decided to talk to you before anyone else,” Lucía explained delicately. But Carolina vehemently denied it, shaking her head. “No, that can’t be. They’re wrong. Gabriel… he can be a bit closed off, he’s not the nicest man in the world, he has a somewhat brusque manner, yes… but I would never lay a hand on Emilio.”

Never! The words came out firmly, but her eyes already betrayed doubt. It was then that Lucía opened her bag and took out the small recorder. She looked at Patricia, who nodded silently, and then pressed the play button. The room fell completely silent. Voices began to fill that simple, familiar atmosphere: the father saying, “Today we’re going to do that again.” Emilio pleading not to do it, saying it hurt, that the teacher was suspicious.

And then, the man’s heavy-handed remarks, ordering silence, demanding secrecy, saying that no one could find out, that if they found out, they’d be in trouble. Carolina slowly opened her eyes, her face paling with each new remark. She brought her hand to her mouth, shocked. “No… it can’t be…” she whispered, gasping for air. “This has to be out of context. They’re probably talking about something else. Gabriel would never hurt our son. He… he loves him, that can’t be it.”

Patricia spoke, remaining calm: “We don’t want to make any hasty decisions, Carolina. That’s why we came here before involving the court or the police. We wanted to hear you, to know what you think about all this. But from what we’re hearing… it seems pretty clear that your husband is hiding something. Something that’s affecting your son. We hope it’s not what we fear, but judging by the tone of that recording…” Carolina was silent for a few seconds. Then, suddenly, she stood up, grabbed her cell phone from the counter, and began typing rapidly.

Lucía and Patricia looked at each other nervously, thinking she was going to call Gabriel. But to both of their relief, Carolina put the phone to her ear and spoke to someone else. “Hi, Julia. Look, I need you to stay with my sister until the day after tomorrow. It’s urgent; something very serious happened. I have to go home today.” After hanging up, she looked back at the two women. “I still don’t understand what could be going on… but if Gabriel was able to lay a finger on Emilio, I swear to God I’m never going to look at him again.”

And more: I’ll put him in jail myself. With that promise in the air, the three women left the house and began the journey back to the capital, this time with Carolina sitting in the backseat. The car moved along the highway under a cloudy sky, as if the tension inside the vehicle was also reflected in the weather outside. Meanwhile, at Emilio’s house, the boy was alone in his room, lying face down on the bed.

He muttered softly to himself, his hand resting on the small of his back, his expression tired: “Oh, I can’t stand it anymore, this pain is so annoying!” he whispered, sighing. It was then that he heard knocks on the door: three firm knocks. He reluctantly got up and opened it. On the other side stood Gabriel, his face always serious. “Come on, Emilio, to the secret room. It’s time.” The boy hesitated. “Dad… I wanted to stay here today. I don’t want to do that, it still hurts.” But the man’s response was quick, firm, authoritative: “We have to do it soon.”

Your mother will return, and we won’t be able to continue. Let’s go. Head down, Emilio obeyed, silently following his father down the hall. On the road back to the capital, silence dominated the interior of the car. Carolina looked out the window, but couldn’t see the landscape: her eyes were lost in memories, trying to understand how something like this could have happened under her own roof. Lucía watched her in the rearview mirror and said in a low voice: “I know it’s hard to believe, but in this world, Carolina, we can’t trust even those closest to us.”

Sometimes evil hides behind a smile or a silence. That’s why we must always be alert. Carolina sighed. “What if this is all a misunderstanding? What if he has an explanation, something we didn’t quite understand? I want to believe he can show me another side of this story… that Emilio’s pain has another cause. Because if not… if he really did something to our son… I don’t know what I’m going to do.” Patricia kept her eyes on the road, but she responded firmly: “You’re going to protect your son.”

That’s what you’re going to do. And we’ll be with you. Once inside the capital, the closer they got to the neighborhood where Carolina lived, the more the tension in the car grew. Her hands were frozen, her heart racing: it was as if something inside her was about to break. When they finally reached the street of the house, the sky was beginning to darken. Carolina got out of the car slowly, taking a deep breath. Lucía held her arm for a moment. “Do you want me to come with you?”

Just in case… Gabriel might get upset, he might become aggressive. But Carolina shook her head, determined. “There’s no need. If he tries anything, I’ll scream and you’ll call the police. But this conversation has to be between him and me.” And with firm steps, the woman crossed the gate of her house. She was about to face one of the most difficult moments of her life… and perhaps discover a truth that would put her at a crossroads. Each step toward the house weighed more than the last.

She felt a lump in her throat, a void in her chest. With every meter she walked, she remembered her husband’s voice saying that no one could know what she was doing with their son. Before she put her hand on the door handle, something stopped her. She carefully approached the living room window and, through the half-open curtain, spied inside the house. Everything was as she had left it: clean, tidy, quiet. That semblance of normality almost made her doubt herself.

But then, in the midst of the silence, she saw them. Emilio and Gabriel passed by the living room. The boy walked slowly, his hand resting on his back, his face showing pain. “I told you it was going to hurt, Dad… it hurts a lot,” he complained in a muffled voice. It was enough. Carolina’s heart raced, her legs trembled. Without a second thought, she turned on her heel and ran back to the car, where Lucía and Patricia were waiting for her. “Call the police, now!”

“She cried desperately. ‘Report Gabriel, for the love of God!’ Tears streamed down her face like a flooded river. There was no more room for doubt or hesitation: this had to end. The police arrived within minutes. The patrol car stopped in front of the house with its lights on. Carolina took a deep breath, feeling the strength returning to her body. It was the moment of truth. She was the first to enter. She walked with a firm step, even though she was torn apart inside.

As soon as she set foot in the living room, Gabriel saw her. He opened his eyes, confused and surprised. “Carolina, my love… didn’t you say you were coming? Did something happen?” he asked, getting up from the sofa. He took a step toward her, but was immediately interrupted by a shout: “Don’t come near me!” Carolina yelled, her eyes blazing. “Monster!” Gabriel stopped, stunned, not understanding what was happening. “What are you talking about?” At that moment, Emilio came running into the living room. Seeing his mother, his eyes lit up.

“Mom, I miss you so much!” he exclaimed, running to hug her. Carolina wrapped her arms around him tightly, protecting him like a lioness. “Mom’s here now, my love. No one else is going to hurt you, I promise,” she said, her voice shaking. After kissing his forehead, she looked him in the eyes and asked, “Go to your room now. Yes, Mom needs to talk to your dad. Everything will be okay, I promise.” “Are you fighting?” the boy asked, confused. “Go to your room, Emilio.”

“We’ll talk later,” she insisted, remaining calm. The boy obeyed, still not understanding, and disappeared down the hallway. Gabriel, still not understanding anything, tried to approach again. “Carolina, what’s going on? What does all this mean?” At that moment, the police officers abruptly entered the house. Lucía and Patricia also entered with them, their faces serious. Gabriel stepped back, completely disoriented. “Can someone explain to me what’s going on here?” he shouted. But Carolina stepped forward, pointing at him. “What’s happening is that you’re a monster!”

You took advantage of my absence to do something horrible to our son. You’re going to pay for this; you’re going to rot in jail! she screamed, completely upset. “You’re crazy! I would never hurt Emilio, ever!” he responded, in a state of shock. “It’s all recorded!” Carolina cried, her eyes filling with tears. “Don’t try to pretend. How were you able to do it? Tell me how!” Gabriel tried to speak, but his confusion was so great that his words stumbling. “Carolina, I swear on everything sacred, I didn’t hurt our son.”

You’re misunderstanding everything… That’s when Commissioner Rivas approached. “Enough. You’ll have a chance to explain yourself at the police station.” With a gesture, he ordered the officers to handcuff Gabriel, who began to shout: “I’m innocent, I didn’t do anything, nothing!” As they led him away, Emilio heard the screams and ran out of his room. Seeing his father handcuffed, he despaired. “No, don’t take my dad!” he shouted, his eyes filling with tears. “Tell them, Emilio! Tell them I didn’t do anything,” Gabriel pleaded, trying to reach him with his eyes.

Carolina held the boy tightly in her arms. “Calm down, my love, calm down. Everything’s okay now. Mom is here, Mom will take care of you. I promise no one else will hurt you.” “Mom, he didn’t do anything!” the boy sobbed. But she wasn’t listening anymore: the protective instinct spoke louder than any words. At the police station, Gabriel was placed in a cold, narrow cell, still breathless from screaming. His eyes were red, his face gaunt.

“You can’t do this to me, I’m innocent!” he said to the commissioner, his hands tied behind his back. “I would never hurt my son, never!” Commissioner Rivas crossed his arms and looked at him coldly. “Everyone who comes here says the same thing: innocent, good father, exemplary husband. But we already know that speech.” “But it’s the truth!” Gabriel insisted. “I never laid a hand on my son to hurt him, never.” The commissioner approached, looking him straight in the eyes.

—You better start preparing yourself… because anyone who hurts a child doesn’t last long in prison. Without another word, Rivas turned and left the room, leaving the echo of his words hanging in the air. Alone, Gabriel fell to his knees on the cell floor. His eyes filled with tears, and he began to bang on the bars in desperation. —I’m innocent! I’m innocent, for the love of God, I didn’t do anything! His hands trembled, his breath coming in short bursts between sobs.

Weeping, she leaned her forehead against the cold cell wall and murmured in a broken voice, “Emilio… my son… I love you. How did all this happen?” In Carolina’s house, the silence was only broken by sobs. The woman continued to hold her son tightly, as if she wanted to protect him from everything, even from the past he was still trying to understand. She repeated like a mantra, “Mommy will protect you, my love. I’m here now. I swear no one else is going to hurt you.”

Emilio, still confused by all the turmoil, looked into his mother’s eyes and asked again, “But why did they take my dad? What did he do?” Carolina took a deep breath and answered carefully, “Because he hurt you, Emilio… that’s why they took him.” It was only then that the boy realized they weren’t alone. Looking around, he saw Lucía and Patricia standing next to his mother. His eyes widened in wonder, and he seemed to begin to understand.

“Are you saying that because of the pain I was in?” he asked. “But Mom… Dad didn’t do it out of malice. He always said it would pass… and it did.” Lucía bent down to the boy’s level and placed her hand on his shoulder, looking at him lovingly. “Emilio, what your dad did is very serious. And serious things have consequences. I know you’re little and maybe you don’t understand now… but one day you’ll understand, okay?” The boy tried to say something, his voice already trembling: “But it wasn’t serious, we were just doing…” Before he could finish, Patricia interrupted him in a firm but gentle tone: “Emilio, we have to take you to the doctor.”

It’s important. We need to know for sure the severity of everything. Carolina hesitated. The idea of ​​exposing her son further, of taking him to a cold hospital room, hurt her deeply. But she knew she had to be strong. “Is that really necessary?” she asked, her eyes filling with tears. “I don’t want him to suffer anymore.” Lucía nodded firmly. “It’s necessary, Carolina. It’s important to know the truth and also to keep the case against Gabriel moving forward. The medical report is essential.”

Emilio shook his head, crying. “I don’t want to go. I don’t want to do anything that might put Dad in jail.” But Carolina approached and held his hands, her eyes filled with sadness. “Son, you have to go. Trust Mom, okay?” Although his heart was heavy, the boy nodded. A short while later, they were all in the car, on the way to the hospital. In the backseat, Emilio shifted uncomfortably, occasionally placing his hand on the back of his body.

Every time she did, Carolina choked back tears and thought, “How could Gabriel do something like that? How?” They arrived at the hospital a short time later. They were seen by a middle-aged doctor with a serene face and a confident gaze. Her name was Dr. Camila. “Good afternoon, how can I help?” she asked cordially. Carolina asked to speak privately, distancing herself from the other two women. “Doctor, I think my son’s father did something to him. He feels pain when he sits down, and it’s been for several days.”

The doctor’s eyes widened in concern, understanding the seriousness of the situation. “Let’s examine him right now,” she replied, walking firmly toward Emilio. After a careful and thorough evaluation, Camila wrote something on a prescription and handed the paper to Carolina. “What is this?” the mother asked, confused. “It’s pain medication.” Emilio had been sitting awkwardly for a long time, on a hard surface, without adequate support. That was what caused the discomfort. Carolina’s eyes widened, not understanding.

“But is that all there is to it? Is there nothing more?” The doctor smiled gently, trying to reassure her. “I examined him very carefully. There are no signs of abuse or anything out of the ordinary. The discomfort comes only from spending too much time sitting in uncomfortable conditions. I gave him one medication, and you will give him the other at home. He’s going to be fine.” Carolina couldn’t speak. She felt numb. Then she returned to Lucía and Patricia and told them what she had just heard.

Still incredulous, she said, “It’s just that… there’s nothing more… he was just sitting in a bad position.” Meanwhile, Emilio, who had heard part of the conversation between the women and the doctor, approached, still with a sad look on his face. “I said Dad didn’t do anything. He’s a good man. Mom, you have to get him out of jail… He just wanted to surprise you.” Carolina bent down. “A surprise?” she repeated, not understanding. “Yes. Let’s go home, I’ll show you,” Emilio said, his eyes shining.

Wasting no time, the four returned to the house. Thanks to Dr. Camila’s medication, Emilio no longer felt as uncomfortable when sitting. Upon arriving, the boy took his mother by the hand and led her directly to the back of the house. There, there was an old door that led to a small room that was almost always locked: it was Gabriel’s old workshop, where he worked with wood. Emilio enthusiastically opened the door and entered first.

When the three women entered behind him, they stopped, completely dazzled. In the center of the room stood a beautiful wooden table with six chairs around it. A rustic setting, but with an impeccable finish. Every detail was hand-carved. It was, without exaggeration, a work of art. Carolina approached slowly, running her fingers along the edges of the table, observing the shine of the varnish, the care in the engravings, the small hearts carved into the backs of the chairs. “My God… what a beautiful thing,” she whispered.

“That’s what we were doing in secret,” Emilio said with a shy smile. “It was a surprise, Mom. Dad said it was for your birthday. You always wanted a table like this… He invited me to help. He said that when we do something together with love, it’s worth so much more. Family love.” Carolina brought her hands to her mouth. Tears fell again, but this time for a different reason. She stood there in front of the table, trying to understand how everything had gotten so out of control.

Trying to accept that perhaps she had misjudged the man she loved. Trying to figure out within herself how to deal with the pain and guilt of having believed the worst. Lucía brought a hand to her mouth, incredulous. Her eyes never left that wonderful table, carved with such care, with such love. She looked at the boy, still trying to put together the pieces that were now beginning to make sense. “So… that’s why you didn’t want to sit in school?” she said, her voice breaking.

Emilio nodded, explaining simply: “I didn’t want to sit in class because I was already spending a lot of time sitting in Dad’s workshop. We spent hours making this surprise. The stools there are all wooden, and when I sat on them for too long, it started to hurt. But Dad said we had to finish everything before you came back. It was a secret, a surprise.” Silence fell over the room. A heavy silence, but not empty. Lucía and Patricia looked at each other, both with the same expression: guilt.

The principal lowered her head, while Carolina felt a knot in her chest like never before. Her son’s words echoed inside her, mixed with the accusations she herself had made. She had called him a monster. She didn’t give him a chance to explain himself. She didn’t look him in the eye before sending him behind bars. And now… now he was imprisoned, accused of something terrible, while all he had done was lovingly build a gift for her. Carolina covered her face, tears streaming uncontrollably.

Without saying anything, she turned to Lucía and Patricia. “Please keep my son. I need to go.” She hurried out, grabbing the car keys. She drove with her heart in her throat to the police station. As soon as she entered, she found the commissioner and handed him the medical report, her hands still shaking. “For the love of God… release my husband. It was all a misunderstanding. He didn’t do anything. It was a surprise… he was just trying to make me happy,” she said between tears.

Commissioner Rivas reviewed the document and nodded. “Wait here a moment,” he said, standing up. He went to the cell. Gabriel was sitting in a corner, his hands on his knees, his gaze lost in thought. When he saw the commissioner approaching, he was scared, thinking he would be taken to a common cell with other prisoners. “No… please, no. I’m innocent. I didn’t do anything, I swear!” But the commissioner spoke calmly: “Calm down. Your wife is here. She withdrew the complaint. You’re free.”

Relief flooded Gabriel’s body like an avalanche. He jumped up, unable to believe it. He was escorted to the reception area of ​​the police station, and when he saw Carolina, he stopped. She ran to him and, without a second thought, knelt on the cold floor of the police station. “Forgive me, please… I was wrong. I… I thought I was protecting our son, but I was blind. I should have listened to you sooner…” Gabriel stood still for a few seconds, not knowing what to say.

The woman with whom he shared his life, who knew his soul, had believed he was capable of the worst horrors. That hurt more than anything. “Let’s go home,” he finally said, his voice firm. “Then we’ll talk.” The walk home was silent. Not a word was spoken. But when they arrived, the first to see Gabriel was Emilio. The boy ran to his father and hugged him tightly. “Dad, I’m so glad you’re back! I thought I’d never see you again.”

Gabriel smiled excitedly, running his hand through his son’s hair. “It’s all right now, champ.” The boy, however, lowered his eyes with a certain sadness. “I had to tell our secret, Dad. I had to share the surprise… otherwise, no one would believe me.” “It’s okay,” Gabriel responded tenderly. “You did what you had to do.” Lucía and Patricia approached, visibly embarrassed. “Gabriel…” the teacher began. “We want to apologize.” He looked at both of them and nodded. “Emilio, go to your room for a while, please.”

I need to talk to your aunts and your mother. “Yes…” the boy said, obeying, leaving with light steps, finally free from pain and fear. Then Gabriel turned to the three women. Lucía took the floor and told them everything: the suspicion, the tape recorder, the trip into the interior to look for Carolina, the reason behind each decision. Patricia completed by explaining how they tried to act cautiously and how, despite that, they came to the wrong conclusion. Finally, Carolina recounted what she saw through the window, what she heard, what she felt.

“I called you a monster,” she said through tears. “I didn’t let you explain. I just… I only thought about protecting our son. My maternal instinct was stronger than reason. But… please forgive me.” Gabriel took a deep, thoughtful breath. The pain was still there, but so was the understanding. “I forgive you,” he said, looking at his wife. “Because I love you, and because I know you acted out of fear, trying to protect what you love most.” Then he turned to Lucía and Patricia. “I forgive you too.”

I understand what they felt, what they thought. They were doing their job. I just ask that next time, before judging, they listen, they observe more closely… because a mistake like that can destroy a life. The three of them nodded, moved. That wasn’t just forgiveness, it was a lesson. Gabriel also acknowledged his share of the blame: he had overdone the project and had made Emilio spend too much time sitting on those hard wooden stools. In the end, Gabriel and Emilio finished the table and chairs together.

Carolina, thrilled, couldn’t stop admiring every detail. She returned to care for her sister for a few more days, but now with a calm heart, knowing that her son was in good hands and that the man at her side was, truly, the husband she had always believed in. Days later, back to her routine, Carolina prepared a special dinner to celebrate his birthday. The beautiful table, made with so much love, was the centerpiece of the celebration. She invited Lucía and Patricia, closing any gaps in awkwardness.

Sitting there, amid laughter, hugs, and gratitude, everyone understood that even the worst misunderstandings can be overcome when there is love, truth, and forgiveness.