Sanaa,
If you are reading this letter, it means I am no longer here… and the mere thought of it tightens my chest more than anything I have ever had to face.
I do not know where to begin, so I will do as I have always done with you—speak plainly.
Thank you.
Thank you for being my family when I had none left. Thank you for being that constant presence, that quiet strength, even when everything around me was falling apart. You were never "just a friend." You were, are, my sister. The one life gave me without ever promising her to me.
I watched you grow, fall, and rise again… always with that same pride, that same way of pretending nothing ever touched you. But I know you, Sanaa. I know what you hide behind your silences.
And that is why I chose you.
Elio…
My son, my heart, everything beautiful I have left in this world.
I had no one else.
No one I could trust the way I trust you. No one capable of seeing beyond appearances, of understanding what he is… and what surrounds him.
And for that… I am sorry.
Sorry for placing such a heavy burden on your shoulders. Sorry for putting something so precious into your hands… without giving you a choice. I know what it means. I know it is not nothing.
But if there is one person in this world I can entrust my son to without hesitation… it is you.
You know the world is not always kind.
That there are things we never speak of, yet they never truly disappear. Shadows that linger, even when we believe we have left them behind.
And you…
You are the only one I know strong enough to face them. Quietly. Without fear. Without ever stepping back.
I entrusted him to you.
Not because you are perfect.
But because you are real.
You are the only one I trust completely. The only one who will know how to protect him, understand him, love him… even in his storms. Especially in his storms.
Yes, I set that condition in my will.
And yes, I can already picture you frowning as you read this.
So listen to me carefully.
Do not be foolish.
And stop being stubborn just for the sake of it.
This inheritance is not for you. It is neither a reward nor a burden.
It is a means.
A way to give him a gentler life.
To stop counting every day.
To protect him without ever lacking anything.
Take it for what it is:
a way for me to help you… even after I am gone.
You are probably thinking you are not made for this. That you are not the one he needs.
But I have never been more certain of anything.
You are exactly the person he needs.
I am not asking you to be perfect. I am not asking you to never make mistakes. I am simply asking you to be there. As you have always been for me.
Love him. Protect him. Teach him to be strong without becoming hard.
And when he looks at you with those eyes that resemble mine a little… tell him his mother loved him more than anything in the world.
I love you, Sanaa.
More than I have ever told you.
Thank you for being my home.
— Alma
I pulled into the daycare parking lot before cutting the engine with a quiet sigh. I rested my forehead against the steering wheel, bracing myself for what came next. Picking Elio up from daycare was still difficult, sometimes he looked for his mother. It had been six weeks since Alma had passed, yet he still expected her to come for him. Every other day, he cried until we got home.
My gaze fell on the new stuffed toy resting on the passenger seat, a small lion I had bought him. Mrs. Taylor had said it might help distract him.
I finally stepped out, grabbing the toy, and headed toward the building. I had to be patient. Calm. Ignore the pitying looks from other parents and staff. Everything would go fine. I pushed the door open, silently praying this would be one of the days he would not ask for Alma.
Inside, the first person I saw was Elio's teacher, Mrs. Wayer. She smiled when she saw me and called his name. He ran over from the play area, and as always, the disappointment I saw on his face when he realized it was me tightened something deep in my chest.
"Mama?" he asked, his eyes searching mine as I inhaled slowly. It would be fine. Everything would be fine. I stepped forward as Mrs. Wayer opened the small gate between us. Elio came to me, and I knelt down. "Nana, mama?" he asked again, his little hands gripping the sleeve of my coat. I wet my lips.
"Mama isn't coming, Elio. I'm here to pick you up," I said softly, keeping my eyes locked on his as I placed a hand on his back. I had noticed he liked it when I tapped or rubbed his back. It soothed him. He stared at me, his lips drooping as they began to tremble. Damn. I quickly lifted the stuffed toy between us. His gaze shifted to it, his brows furrowing.
"Look what I got for you," I said, handing it to him. He took it, inspecting it carefully, while his teacher bent down with a smile.
"Oh my, what a beautiful lion, just like you," she said, gently ruffling his hair.
"Lion?" he repeated, looking at her. She nodded. Then he turned back to me, holding the toy out. "Nana lion?" he asked. I smiled, brushing my hand over his cheek.
"Yes, it's a lion, sweetheart."
He smiled, his small teeth showing, then hugged the plush to his chest, swaying from side to side. I let out a quiet sigh of relief before standing to take his jacket from Mrs. Wayer, who gave me a knowing wink. Yes… I had handled that one well.
We made it home without any trouble, and I found myself oddly proud. I was already thinking about which stuffed toy I should buy tomorrow. I stepped out of the elevator, holding Elio's small hand as he babbled to his lion, when I spotted Mrs. Taylor and her granddaughter Sophie in front of our apartment.
"Oh, Sanaa, we were just about to knock," she said with a warm smile, pointing at the dish in Sophie's hands. "I made lasagna. I thought we could have dinner together." For a moment, I did not know what to say. Over the past three weeks, I had made an effort to socialize, for Elio. But I was still me. Introverted. Not particularly fond of… people. Still, Mrs. Taylor had been a tremendous help, and would continue to be. So I accepted.
We stepped inside the apartment I had cleaned the night before, not accounting for Elio's toys scattered all over the living room. Once I helped him out of his jacket and little boots, he ran off to show his new lion to his older toys, more excited than ever. I washed my hands before joining Mrs. Taylor and Sophie in the kitchen to prepare dinner.
The evening passed quietly, and to my surprise, I did not find it unpleasant. Sophie played with Elio while we had a drink with her grandmother. She told me stories about her youth, stories that surprised me. It seemed the quiet ones were always the wildest.
"Speaking of New York," she said, setting her wine glass down before turning to me, "Alma told me she got you a ticket to a VIP event. That's next weekend, isn't it?" I blinked, remembering the gift my friend had given me. She was right. It was next week. For once, she had managed to choose the perfect present.
I shook my head, refusing to let my thoughts wander too far. There was no point.
"Yes, it's next week… but I won't be going," I said, taking another sip of my drink. Mrs. Taylor frowned.
"Why not?" she asked, tilting her head. "If it's because of Elio, don't worry, I can keep him for the weekend." I glanced at Elio, laughing at Sophie's antics, and pressed my lips together. He had only just adjusted to this new routine… to me. I could not just disappear for two days.
"Sanaa," my neighbor murmured, placing a hand on my arm. "It will be fine. He knows Sophie and me. Two days is nothing." I shook my head.
"I don't think it's a good idea," I said, running a hand through my hair. "Besides, I was planning to work this Saturday."
Even as a millionaire, I still worked at the garage. Otherwise, I would lose my mind staying in that apartment. Though I had eased up a little. I had made an arrangement with Miguel, day shifts only as a mechanic, no more extractions at night. Even if I still agreed to come in during emergencies. It had happened twice in the past six weeks. Twice when I had handed my keys to Mrs. Taylor so she could stay with Elio while he slept. I made sure to bring her good wine and her favorite chocolates, a small way to repay everything she did.
"As you wish, my dear," Mrs. Taylor sighed, pouring herself another glass. "But you should know Alma was very excited. She had finally found the perfect gift for you." I closed my eyes. Honestly… if there were a competition for the most manipulative people, she and Miguel would be tied. Though she might win, with that sweet, harmless face that made people trust her.
Something Miguel definitely did not have.