A humble cleaning lady, who still had to leave her little daughter, decided to take her to work, but she never imagined that her millionaire boss’s reaction would change everything.

Claudia woke up at 5:30 in the morning like every day, with a sore body and swollen eyes from not sleeping well, but still time to complain.

The old alarm clock on her bedside table was already sleeping, but she had the clock in her head since her husband died 4 years ago. Her daughter Repata, barely 4 years old, slept deeply cuddled to a stuffed animal that already had its ears drooping.

Claudia stared at her for several seconds before getting up. She felt sad about waking her, but she couldn’t leave her alone. She’d have to take her to work again.

He moved quickly around the small house he shared with the Sao Pedro neighborhood. A humble house, with painted walls and worn paint, the only light bulb on the ceiling, and it was old and taking its time to improve.

He served a little bird with warm milk for Repata and black coffee for her, all in silence so that the girl could stay asleep a little longer.

While she was having breakfast, she was thinking about how to explain to Mr. Leoardo that her daughter would be with her again. She had already told him that she didn’t have to leave her, but it always seemed that at some point she would tell him that she couldn’t go on like this, that he should find another option. As if that were easy.

Claudia had already looked for a grocery store, but she couldn’t afford the cheapest one and she didn’t have any family who could help her. Things were what they were.

At 6:15, Repata woke up with a kiss on her forehead. The girl opened her eyes lazily, stretched, and asked the same question she asked every day. Today you’re going to work, Mom. Claudia smiled and replied that she was, but that she was going with her, like other times.

Repata nodded because she liked the big house. She said it looked like a castle. Although he didn’t let her touch almost anything, she was still happy just to be there.

While she was dressing her, Claudia kept telling her not to make any noise, not to touch her every time, not to run through the halls and not to go into Mr. Leoardo’s office. It’s very important that you be well behaved, my daughter. I need this job.

He told her very firmly but sweetly. They left the house at 7, as always. He walked four blocks to the bus stop. Claudia had her backpack slung over her shoulder and a bag with some food in it.

And Repata with a pink backpack where she carried her small toys and a notebook to draw, went to the truck like every morning between pushes and Claudia made sure that the girl was well seated next to the road.

The journey lasted about 40 minutes and Repata spent it looking at the cars, the people, the stray dogs and asking questions without stopping. Claudia answered as much as she could, although sometimes she didn’t have the brains to do anything.

They arrived at the Lomas del Ecio neighborhood, where everything was different: wide streets, pruned trees, houses with electric fences, and gardeners trained from early on.

The house where he worked was on the corner of a quiet street, behind a huge black gate. Claudia had to call on the intercom to get someone to open it for her.

The security guard, Mr. José, already knew her, smiled at Repata and opened the door for them. Claudia thanked him with a quick glance and a look. The house was huge, two stories high, covered with vegetation on all sides, and a garden bigger than her entire street. Claudia was still cheerful when she entered, having already worked there for two years.

Everything was clean, tidy, and smelled of fresh wood. Mr. Leoardo almost never left his office in the morning. Claudia knew exactly what to do. He would go up at 8, come down for breakfast at 9, and then close up to work or go out to meetings. Sometimes I didn’t see him all day; I only left him messages through the butler. That day I thought it would be the same.

She left through the service door as usual. Claudia asked Repata to stay seated in the corner of the kitchen where she could see her. She gave her the colored pencils and a piece of paper. The girl began to draw, and she began to clean, starting with the dining room. Everything was normal.

She washed the dishes the cook had left, swept, mopped, rearranged the chair cushions, and dusted the furniture that held the expensive bottle collection. At 8:15, she heard footsteps on the stairs. Her heart leapt. She hadn’t expected him to come down so early.

Leoardo appeared in the living room with his white shirt unbuttoned and a furrowed brow. His hair was a little disheveled and he was carrying a folder in his hand. Claudia froze with the rag in her hand. He headed straight for the kitchen. When he entered, he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Repata there, sitting on the floor, focused on her drawing.

Claudia felt her stomach clench, took a deep breath, took a step forward, and explained that she didn’t have to leave her, that it would only be for a few hours, that she promised it wouldn’t cause any trouble. Leonardo didn’t say anything, bent down, resting lightly on his knees, and looked at Reata’s drawing. It was a huge house with a girl standing in the garden and a big sun on the corner.

Repata saw him and said, scared, “This is your house, sir, and that’s me playing.” Leonardo blinked, said nothing for a few seconds, then sat up, straightened his shirt, and, to Claudia’s surprise, smiled. A slight smile, as if something had unlocked inside him.

“Okay,” he said again and left the kitchen. Claudia didn’t know what to think. She’d never seen him like that before. Mr. Leonardo wasn’t rude, but he wasn’t warm either. He was a serious man, with a hard look that almost didn’t say much. But that smile was something I hadn’t expected. He continued to wipe his head with a racing heart and looked at Repata out of the corner of his eye.

The girl continued to draw, dragged along, as if she hadn’t. At 9 o’clock, the cat came down from the car. Claudia thought that now she would get scolded, but no. Leoardo sat down at the dining room table and asked for some coffee. Then, from his chair, he asked Reata what her name was.

She responded with all the parenting in the world, as if they were friends. He asked her what she liked to do, and she replied that it was drawing, running, and eating paa dulce. Leoardo laughed. A low laugh, but real. Claudia sensed that something strange was happening and didn’t know if she should be worried or not. The rest of the morning was different. Leoardo stayed longer at the house.

He went out to the garden to make some calls, but before leaving he asked Claudia if Repata could play there for a while. She didn’t know what to answer, she just said yes, if it wasn’t too much trouble, and he replied that it was, that he liked seeing her there. Claudia stared at him, not knowing how to react. While she was sweeping the entrance, she saw her daughter running through the bushes, laughing alone, and Leoardo sitting on his back, looking to see if he could say anything.

The man who had lost his wife three years earlier and who had lived like a shadow ever since seemed to be coming back to life that day. Claudia didn’t realize that day was over, but for the first time in a long time she felt that maybe things could change and that everything had started like any other day. Repata was sitting in the garden with her legs crossed, pulling little flowers from the grass and making mops for color.

She was wearing a little white blouse with little bits of pajama set that hadn’t come out in the wash and a ponytail that had already come undone. While she played, she talked to herself, like children do, telling stories about how one flower was a princess and another was a dragon.

Claudia watched her from the kitchen door, wiping her hands with an old rag. She was worried that it would make noise or that something would happen. She didn’t want to give him any reason to tell her he couldn’t bring her any more. Leoardo was inside his office, as always. Some rustling of papers and a call on the loudspeaker could be heard.

Claudia didn’t understand what she was talking about, but her voice was firm, one of those that doesn’t matter, even if you’re not watching. When Repata began to sing softly while she arranged her flowers in the row, Claudia wanted to run over and tell her to be quiet, but before she could move, Leoardo came out. He was with his cell phone in hand and had a tired expression. He stopped suddenly when he saw the girl lying down.

Claudia froze. She expected him to say something, to shut her up, to ask her why she was there again, but no. Leonardo put his cell phone in his pocket and approached slowly, as if Claudia knew what he was doing. He crouched down next to the girl and asked her what he was doing.

Repata looked at him, thought about it for a second, and then told him the name of the cartoon. She asked him if he saw that cartoon too. Leoardo gave a little laugh. No, I didn’t see it, he said. But he liked the way he looked. Claudia didn’t know what to do. It was like seeing another person.

The same man who was walking by didn’t say hello, got out, and looked at the others. Now he was crouching down, talking to his 4-year-old girl about cartoons. He continued talking as if nothing had happened. He explained that one flower was Mama Flower, another was Papa Flower, and that he was taking care of his little ones. The petals. Leoardo nodded as if he were really there, and then it happened. He laughed. A soft but real laugh. And it wasn’t just once.

Repata said something else, something about the petals being naughty and escaping from the garden, and he let out a low, but clear, laugh. Claudia felt her throat tighten. She didn’t know if it was joy, surprise, or fear. Seeing him laugh like that was like watching it rain in a deserted place. You could tell he didn’t do it all the time.

He stayed with the girl for a while longer, watching her arrange the flowers by color. He asked her if she liked being there. Repata said yes, that it was like a park with a roof and that she wished she lived there. Leonardo looked at her seriously for a moment, but then smiled again. After a few minutes, he got up and told Claudia that she could let the girl play there as long as she wanted, that it was no problem.

Claudia only managed to say a very low thank you. He acted more like everything was normal, but for Claudia nothing was normal. Later, when the floor of the hallway that connected to the library was already cleaned, Claudia stopped for a moment when she heard Leoardo’s laugh again. This time it came from the office. It wasn’t loud or exaggerated. But it was there.

That hadn’t happened yet. Claudia peeked out a little. She didn’t want to spy, just look. She saw Leoardo sitting at his desk with a chair in front of him. She had a sheet of drawings in her hands and he was looking at them. Suddenly, the girl looked up and said something she couldn’t hear, but it made Leoardo laugh at her. Claudia quietly withdrew.

She didn’t want to be ruined. She didn’t know how long that good attitude would last, but she was determined to keep it going. The cook, Marta, a 50-year-old woman who had worked in the house for years, approached Claudia as she gathered towels from the guest bathroom.

She told him in a low voice that she had only seen the boss like that, that ever since Mrs. Daiela died, he didn’t laugh, didn’t talk more than necessary, didn’t let anyone take up his space. “And now that girl has really put it in her head,” Marta commented, surprised. Claudia could only shrug. She didn’t want to get carried away. She didn’t know what all this meant. At mealtime, Leonardo asked to be put further at the table. Claudia thought it was for some guest, but no.

She said Repata would eat and the girl looked happy as if it were the most normal thing in the world. She asked for flavored water and Marta served her a little hibiscus. Leonardo didn’t say anything, he just looked at her. He asked if she liked beans. Repata said yes, but that she once ate some that tasted like dirt. He laughed at her.

Claudia stood by the stove, wondering if that was right or wrong. Leonardo called her name, which she almost did. He told her she could eat something if she wanted, not to worry. Claudia just said she was fine. Thank you. But she didn’t eat. Her stomach was in knots.

That afternoon, when he was already leaving, Repata ran to say goodbye to Leoardo. She gave him a drawing she had made with crayons. It was a man with a tie and a girl holding his hand. Leoardo looked at him, remained silent for a few seconds, and then put it in his desk drawer, without saying anything else.

She just stroked the girl’s head and told her to behave. On the way home in the truck, Repata asked her mom if she could come back tomorrow. Claudia didn’t know what to answer. She looked out the window with watery eyes and a heavy heart. Something had changed. She knew it, but she didn’t know if she should trust it. She had learned not to expect too much from anyone.

Sometimes, when something bad happened, it was just a precursor to something worse. That night, after cooking some rice and eggs, Claudia put Repata to bed. The girl fell asleep quickly, cuddled with the same stuffed animal as always. Claudia sat in bed staring at the ceiling. She had too many things on her mind. Leoardo, her laughter, the way she looked at her daughter, she couldn’t tell what was happening, but part of her was scared, because every time life started to get better, something always came along to lift it up, but at the same time she couldn’t tell that she had seen something in that man’s eyes, something broken, but waiting to come out. And the strangest thing is that her daughter, without realizing it

Cneta, she had been the one who opened the door for him. From that morning on, something changed in the house. It wasn’t something that was said in a formal agreement, but from then on, Repata began going with Claudia every day. The first week was like walking on thin ice. Claudia expected that at some point she would tell him that he couldn’t take her anymore, that he was breaking the rules, that he was looking for a piñera, something.

But that didn’t happen. On the contrary, every day Leoardo greeted her and the girl with a light smile. Sometimes he asked what Repata had for breakfast. Other times he just peeked into the garden to watch her play, but there was always a gesture. A small one, yes, but sincere. Claudia, on the other hand, didn’t know whether to be quiet or more cheerful. She had never seen that side of him.

In fact, Marta, the cook, and José the guard were also surprised. Marta even told him one day in a low voice while peeling potatoes that the girl had done her best to wring out a shred of joy from the boss. The days became more tiresome. Claudia cleaned more calmly, although that fear was still there that would make her run away. She felt she could breathe, although not completely.

Repata, while tato, took care of the garden as if it were me. There she had, low down, a little box of crayons and leaves and a couple of toys she brought from home. She stayed out most of the time, talking to herself, talking quietly or pretending the pebbles were children and the leaves were backpacks. One afternoon, while Claudia was mopping the hallway that led to the main room, Leoardo approached.

It wasn’t to give orders or to ask about work, it was to talk. He asked how Repata was, if she got sick often, if she ate well. Claudia responded with distrust, wondering why he was so interested. Leonardo crossed his arms and said that there were children who didn’t eat well because of a lack of money or time, that sometimes life didn’t allow for more. Claudia looked at him in surprise.

It wasn’t common to hear him talk like that, like someone who understood how difficult it was to live day to day. Then, if anything, he left. Every time he crossed paths, he’d have something to say, sometimes a comment on the weather, other times about Repata. One day he even asked her if she knew how to cook meatballs at Chipotle because they reminded him of his mom.

Claudia told him yes, that it was the first thing she had learned to cook when she got married. He agreed, said that someday he would like to try them, and left. That kept her worried all day. Repata kept flirting with everyone without making a point. José, the guard, gave her a strawberry popsicle in the afternoon. Marta started saving him some dessert from breakfast.

Even Mrs. Dolores, the older woman who came to make flower arrangements every week, taught him how to cut stems and put them in water. The girl didn’t cause problems; on the contrary, she made everything easier. One morning, Leoardo was in the garden talking on the phone. Repata approached him with her little hand in hand.

Claudia, who was cleaning vetapas, saw her and wanted to run to stop her, but she stayed put. Leonardo hung up the call and bent down to see the drawing Repata was showing him. It was a mazapapa tree. She explained that it was the chief’s tree because he killed the house. He laughed and told her that he didn’t kill anyone, that everyone did what they wanted. Repata told him that was bad, because if he killed too much, his laughter would go away.

Claudia watched them from a distance and noticed how her daughter had that facility for saying things so simple, yet so true. Leonardo didn’t become as closed off as he had been before. He was still working, of course, but he took breaks. He walked around the garden, sometimes even sitting on the bench where Repata played.

Once he told her that when he was a child he also made little stones, but his mother got angry because he messed up her diapers. Repata just laughed and told him that she didn’t have a father, but that her mother only got angry. Leonardo remained serious, he didn’t say anything else, he just ruffled her hair. That night, Claudia couldn’t sleep. She remembered what her daughter said, how she said it.

It was true. She remembered Dad didn’t have it, and she tried to show him that secret, but there it was. And if she wanted to look for it, if she knew, it was hidden in the figure of Leoardo. That scared her because she knew she couldn’t have a life there. He was her boss.

lived in a house that wasn’t my own, with a man who looked completely different. One afternoon, while Claudia was cleaning the bathrooms on the second floor, Leonardo came up, stopped at the door, and said goodbye. Then he asked if Repata was going to kindergarten yet. Claudia told him no, she didn’t have to pay the registration fee. He didn’t say anything at that moment, just nodded, and left.

Two days later, Marta arrived with a folder and gave it to Claudia. It was a form for a private preschool. Leoardo had spoken to the director. Repata had a reserved spot, all paid for. Claudia froze. She wanted to go thank him, but she didn’t notice. That day, she didn’t go downstairs. She saw him alone from a distance, talking on the phone on the balcony. She didn’t know if she should be happy or not.

It was helpful, yes, but it also made her feel compromised. The atmosphere in the house was no longer the same. Marta placed a small chair in the kitchen for Repata to sit on. José made her an improvised swing on a low branch of the tree in the fodo. Dolores brought her a bag of holy cards and Leoardo.

Leonardo didn’t always laugh, but he was no longer that cold man who passed by without looking. Sometimes he went out just to see what Repata was doing. One day he brought her ice cream and told her that if she ate it quickly, it would melt like her problems. The girl didn’t laugh, but she laughed just the same. And Claudia, who didn’t say anything, noticed everything, every look, every small gesture. Something was forming, she didn’t know what it was, but it was there.

It wasn’t normal, it wasn’t common. And that scared her, because when something changes too quickly, sometimes it’s a sign that something is coming to break it. But for now, all she could do was keep going, keep cleaning, keep caring, keep watching as her daughter’s presence pulled everyone out of that gray mess.

It started with the man who, without realizing it, had returned to laughter thanks to a 4-year-old girl who only wanted to play. That morning the sky dawned cloudy with heavy air, like a storm. Claudia left the house with Repata in tow, walked in silence. It was not a normal day. Since dawn she had dreamed about her husband and that accident that still hurt her as if it had happened yesterday.

He woke up with his chest tight, but still had time to cry. Life didn’t stop. In the truck, Repata didn’t talk as much as he did on other days. He was looking out the window, half asleep. Claudia adjusted her sweater on her shoulders, trying to think of something else, but she couldn’t.

The memory of the call she received that early morning came back as if it were a movie. Her husband was on his way to work. It was raining, he skidded. He never arrived, he never came back. From then on, everything changed. When they arrived at Leoardo’s house, the atmosphere also felt different. She was quieter than usual. José greeted him, but with that usual smile. Marta didn’t say much either.

Claudia left Repata in charge of the garden with the colors and went to work, except with her head on the other side. While she was carving the kitchen, she remembered how her husband told her that one day they would have a house like that with big trees and veins, he said. Claudia only responded with a smile because she couldn’t imagine anything so far away.

And now she was home like that, but working, or living. And alone. Always alone. Around noon, while she was cleaning the bathrooms on the first floor, Leonardo came down, saw her, and stopped. It wasn’t like the other times. He wasn’t in a hurry to carry papers, he was just there. Claudia greeted him in a low voice. He looked at her intently and asked if she had anything. She thought it was because of something work-related, but she agreed and followed him to the studio.

There Leoardo sat down on one of the chairs and pointed to the other one so she could do it too. Claudia sat with her hands and legs, not knowing what to expect. He remained silent for a few seconds, looking towards the street. Then he spoke.

He told her that he had been thinking about many things, that seeing Repata had made him remember, that he hadn’t talked about it for a long time. Claudia just listened to him. Without terror, Leoardo told her that his wife, Daiela, had been diagnosed with cancer two years after they were married, that at first he thought she was going to get better, that it was just going to be a difficult time, but it wasn’t like that, that he saw her fade away little by little, that he lived with the illness with her day by day, night by night, that he tried everything, trips, treatments, doctors, nothing helped. She died at home in her bed at dawn. Leoardo saw her leave,

he said goodbye, he just left. Claudia felt her throat tighten. She didn’t know what to say, she just looked at him with her eyes open, blinking back tears. Leoardo took a deep breath and said that after that he turned everything off, that he didn’t want to see anyone, he didn’t want to talk, he didn’t want to leave, he just went to work, to the numbers, to the emails, to the meetings and that that’s how he had lived until that girl appeared.

Repata said that at first she was only interested in the fact that she spoke so much, that she was so loose, but that soon she began to feel something strange. A kind of warmth, a movement inside her chest, a laugh that came out even if she looked for it. Claudia looked down, not knowing if that was good or bad.

Leonardo looked her in the eyes and told her it wasn’t just a question of opening wounds. He just wanted her to know that he was dead, that he had lost too, that he knew how much it hurt. Claudia didn’t hold back any longer. Tears began to fall without permission.

She told him her story, how her husband died that year, how her body was recognized, how she had to explain to her daughter, that she was even old enough to understand how she felt alone, helpless, empty, how she stopped living to just survive. Leonardo didn’t interrupt her, he just listened to her with a serious face, but with heavy eyes. When Claudia finished speaking, the two remained silent, long, heavy.

Leoardo stood up and walked toward the window. He said something without looking at her. He didn’t know how much he needed to hear laughter again in this house. Claudia wiped her tears with her hand. She looked exposed, as if she’d left all her pain on the table, but she didn’t regret it. Something had been released.

Repata ran into the studio at that moment with her hand-picked flower. It was one of those she had picked from the garden. She gave it to Claudia with a smile, as if she knew something wasn’t right. Claudia hugged her tightly without saying anything. Leoardo looked at them and for the first time Claudia felt the distance between him and them.

That day she didn’t work as usual. Marta told her to stay seated, not to worry. José brought her coffee if she asked. No one asked, but everyone noticed that something had happened. It wasn’t just any other day. On the way back to the truck, Claudia was walking quietly with Repata asleep on her arm.

The movement of the vehicle and the noise of the city surrounded her like a distant hum. She closed her eyes for a moment and considered everything she had said, what she had heard, Leonardo, and that sadness that he also carried and that now seemed to still carry them. When they got home, Repata lay down without cear.

Claudia covered her, kissed her forehead, and stayed for a while watching her sleep. Then she sat in the dark living room. She thought about her husband, her life before the accident, the broken dreams, but she also thought about the possibility of starting over, not with romanticism, just with the idea that maybe everything was lost.

And so, while the city continued to fall to pieces outside, in the small house south of the city, a married woman, her soul broken in pieces, allowed herself to close her eyes with something more than pain in her chest. It was Friday, one of those days brought to the house, with the clear sky and the fresh air that filtered through the open windows, Repata played in the garden with the cloth ball that José had given her.