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—I’m used to it now.
Teresa felt something rising in her chest. Not anger. Not exactly.
It was a decision in the making.
—You’re not going to sign.
-Mother…
—You’re not going to sign to protect me from a truth that’s already come in through that door.
The man leaned towards Teresa.
—Madam, you don’t understand the magnitude of this.
“No,” Teresa said. “But I understand the size of a daughter.”
Maria Luisa burst into tears without making a sound. She covered her face with both hands.
The young man on the phone received a call, muttered something in Korean, and stiffened.
The man in the suit looked at him.
—What’s happening?
The young man showed him the screen. The man lost his composure for a second.
Teresa noticed that change. Small, but real.
Maria Luisa saw it too.
Kang is coming, right?
No one answered.
The name filled the house with a presence heavier than all of them.
Teresa looked toward the door. Outside, the truck was still running, its lights cutting through the fine snow.
“Mom,” said Maria Luisa, “there’s a red memory stick in the office upstairs. It’s in a shoebox.”
The man in the suit looked up.
—Be careful what you say.
Maria Luisa ignored him.