The car moved forward, but Rafael’s hands remained tense on the wheel, knuckles pale, mind racing through thoughts he could not yet organize into a single decision.
The city outside continued its rhythm, indifferent, while inside the vehicle something fragile had cracked open, something that could no longer be unseen or ignored.
Mateo sat quietly, his small body pressed against the seat, as if trying to disappear into the leather, eyes fixed on nothing in particular.
Rafael glanced at him again through the mirror, noticing how the boy avoided any sudden movement, as if even the air might hurt him.
He wanted to speak, to promise something, anything, but words felt dangerous now, like steps on thin ice that might break under the wrong pressure.
Instead, he cleared his throat softly and asked, almost casually, “Does she ever… leave marks where others can see?”
Mateo hesitated, then shook his head slowly, his fingers twisting together in his lap, a habit Rafael had never noticed before today.
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