My husband blamed me for our baby’s death and walked out. Six years later, the hospital called to say our son had been poisoned… and the security footage revealed the killer.

She repeated it to herself every birthday Gael didn’t reach. Every May 10th. Every night she woke up thinking she heard a cry that never existed. She convinced herself that what had happened to her was a natural tragedy, horrible, yes, but natural. Something that fate cruelly snatched from her. Something she had to accept to avoid going mad.

Six years later, on an ordinary Wednesday, the past returned with the trembling voice of a doctor.

Camila was arranging boxes of school supplies in a storage room when her cell phone rang. She saw the caller ID and felt the blood drain from her feet: San Jerónimo Hospital.

For a second she thought it was a mistake. Or a monstrous joke. She answered with a tight throat.

-Well?

“Camila Torres?” a woman asked.

-Yeah.

—I’m calling from the neonatal unit at San Jerónimo Hospital. I’m Dr. Verónica Salas. We need to speak with you about an irregularity in your son’s medical record.

Camila leaned against a shelf.

—I don’t understand. My son died 6 years ago.

On the other side there was such a long silence that it was enough for Camila to know that her life was about to be shattered again.