Diego cried and didn’t wipe himself. For the first time in two years, he cried in front of someone other than his pillow. Elena placed her hand on his: a soft, comforting touch, without ulterior motives… but Diego felt electricity run through his body. “Pain isn’t the enemy, Diego. The enemy is letting pain steal what you still have. Your children are alive, they need you. There’s still time to recover what you lost with them.” They walked back to the house hand in hand without realizing it, until they reached the door and Elena let go quickly as if she’d been burned. The children were in the living room watching a movie. Seeing them come in together, giggling softly at something Diego said, they exchanged knowing glances; Santiago, without hesitation, dropped the bombshell: “Dad… are you going to marry Miss Elena?” The world stopped. Elena froze. Diego gasped for air. Mateo and Lucas watched hopefully. Santiago continued, “It’s just that we want her to be our mom. She’s really cool, and you smile when you’re with her. You didn’t smile before, Dad… you looked sad all the time, but now you look happy.” Elena blushed and frantically searched for her bag. “I… I have to go, it’s late. I’ll leave you now. I’m sorry.” Diego tried to stop her. “Elena, wait… the children…” But she was already at the door, her eyes glistening and her breath coming in short gasps. “Yes, I understand, Diego… and that’s why I have to go. I’ll see you on Monday. Goodbye, children. I love you very much.” The door closed. Diego stood in the middle of the living room, feeling as though he had just lost something important, without quite knowing what. Mateo asked in a frightened little voice, “Did we say something wrong, Dad?” Diego knelt down and hugged them. “No, my little ones… you didn’t say anything wrong. You said something that your dad had also been thinking… but he didn’t dare say out loud.” The children looked at him, confused. Diego smiled sadly. “The adult world is complicated… but I promise we’ll sort this out somehow.”
Three hours later, Diego was in his darkened office, illuminated only by the light of his computer screen. He had ignored thirty-seven work emails; he didn’t care. He opened a drawer and took out a blue velvet box. Inside was Clara’s wedding ring. He held it up to the screen’s light. Two years had been the only thing he couldn’t give away or keep because it was the last tangible thing of hers. A three-second flashback: Clara on their wedding day in a simple white dress, smiling as if Diego were her whole world. Diego put the ring back in the box and closed the drawer. He picked up his phone, opened WhatsApp, and searched for Elena: her profile picture was of her surrounded by children, all smiling. He typed, deleted, typed again, deleted again, typed a third time: “Elena, sorry for how awkward things were today, but I have to be honest. My children weren’t the only ones thinking about it. Me too. Good night.” His finger froze on send; it could ruin everything, she could block him, quit, think he was a stalker… or feel the same way. Diego closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and pressed send. Two gray checkmarks, then two blue ones; Elena saw it. The three dots appeared… disappeared… reappeared… disappeared again. Nothing. Five minutes passed, then ten, then twenty. No response. Diego put his phone down on the desk and covered his face: he had just ruined everything by not being able to keep quiet.
The following weekend, Diego was in the garden playing soccer with the other children. They laughed at him because he couldn’t kick straight and because he still wore dress shoes even to play on the grass, but at least they were laughing, and that was better than the silence of the last two years. He was sweating, disheveled, and happy for the first time in a long time when the doorbell rang. The maid rushed out and returned looking panicked: “Mr. Diego… your Aunt Sofia just arrived unannounced. She says she needs to speak with you urgently.” Diego froze. The ball rolled away, and the children stopped laughing. Everyone knew Aunt Sofia. Everyone was afraid of her.
“Tell her I’m busy,” Diego thought, but it was too late. Sofía Fernández de Montero appeared in the garden like a Category 5 hurricane: fifty-five years old but looking forty thanks to incredibly expensive surgeries, wearing a cream-colored Chanel suit, Gucci sunglasses, a Hermès bag that cost more than a car, and jewelry that sparkled so brightly it hurt your eyes. She was the sister of Diego’s deceased father and controlled part of the family fortune as if it were her own personal kingdom. “My dear nephew… what a surprise to find you at home on a Sunday. I thought you’d be at the office as usual. Or have you gotten lazy?” She planted a cold kiss on him, a bottle of French perfume that cost five thousand pesos. Then she looked at the triplets as if they were cockroaches. “Children, why are you so dirty? Where’s the governess? Shouldn’t you be studying piano or French, not rolling around in the grass like country kids?” Diego clenched his fists and smiled tensely. “Aunt Sofia, it’s so good to see you. They’re playing because it’s Sunday and Sundays are for having fun… and their names are Mateo, Santiago and Lucas, in case you don’t remember.”
Sofia snorted and entered the house without waiting for an invitation. Diego followed, his stomach in knots. In the living room, Sofia sat down on the most expensive sofa and pulled out a folder. “Diego, we need to talk about your situation. I’ve been doing some research, and I’m very concerned about your ability to raise these children alone. That’s why I’ve brought the solution: a boarding school in Switzerland, one of the best. There, they’ll learn four languages, proper manners, and network with the right families. They start next semester.” Diego felt his blood boil. “Excuse me… what did you say? A boarding school? My children are seven years old! They’re not executives, they’re children!” Sofia looked at him as if he were an idiot. “Exactly: they’re Fernandez children. They need an elite education, not to be rolling around in gardens. Clara spoiled them with her modern ideas… and you’re even worse. Look at you in jeans and a t-shirt; you look like a gardener, not a CEO.”
Diego was about to explode when the kitchen door opened. Elena walked in with a tray of fresh lemonade. She was wearing jeans and a pink sleeveless blouse, her hair loose; she looked beautiful, simple, and real. She paused, noticing the tension, but smiled politely. “Sorry to interrupt. I brought drinks for everyone.” Sofia’s face changed like a mask: narrowed eyes, like a snake eyeing a mouse. She stood up slowly and walked toward Elena like a predator. “And who exactly are you?” Elena placed the tray on the table with trembling hands. “I’m Elena Ramirez… the children’s nanny, ma’am.” Sofia let out a cruel laugh. “Nanny? The nanny walks into the living room like she’s part of the family? Diego, what kind of house are you running?” Diego stood up. “Aunt Sofia, I demand respect. Elena is…” But Sofia was already on the attack, circling Elena like she was garbage. “Let me guess: you’re from the south, right? Oaxaca, Chiapas… one of those places where people come to the capital looking for a better life.” Elena lowered her gaze, confirming without words. Sofía smiled victoriously. “I knew it the moment I saw you: sun-darkened skin, calloused hands, cheap clothes from the street market. You come from a poor family and thought working for the rich was your ticket to the good life, didn’t you?” Elena raised her chin with a dignity that Sofía would never possess, even if she had all the money in the world. “I work honestly, ma’am. I have nothing to be ashamed of.”
Sofia turned her back on him and pulled Diego by the arm. “I need to talk to you alone in your office.” Diego looked at Elena apologetically, but followed his aunt like a scolded child. As soon as they closed the door, Sofia exploded: “You’re in love with the employee, Diego… what were you thinking? You’re Fernandez! Your fortune is worth two hundred million. That woman saw you as a golden opportunity: a rich widower with three motherless children. She’s probably already planning to divorce you and keep half.” Diego felt pure rage. “Elena refused to triple her salary when I offered her a full-time position. If she wanted money, she would have accepted.” Sofia changed tactics, her voice soft and venomous: “So she wants the children, she wants to be the new mother figure. Diego, wake up: she’s manipulating your children to get to you, and when she gets tired of it and asks for a divorce, the children will suffer again, they’ll lose another mother figure. You’ll destroy them out of selfishness.” Those words pierced him like knives. Diego thought about Mateo, Santiago, and Lucas, about how they had already lost Clara; he couldn’t risk them suffering again. Sofía finished: “And what will society say? The partners? The CEO married to a nanny from Oaxaca… gossip of the year. Your children will grow up ashamed that their stepmother was a domestic worker.” Diego hadn’t thought about it… but now the doubt was growing like poisonous mushrooms. Fear was stronger than love. It always had been.
They returned to the living room. Elena sat on the edge of the sofa, clearly uncomfortable. The triplets had come in and sat beside her, protective. Diego knew what he had to do: tell Sofía to go to hell, defend Elena, declare his feelings, choose love. But fear won. “Elena…” his voice came out cold and professional. “Thank you for your services, but I think it’s best to terminate the contract. I’m going to deposit three months’ severance pay.” Silence fell like a nuclear bomb. Elena looked at him, her eyes filled with tears that she didn’t let fall. She said nothing: she just nodded. She stood up and grabbed her bag. The children exploded. “No, Dad, no! Why are you firing her? We want her here!” Elena knelt down and hugged all three of them, weeping silently. “I love you, children. Never forget that. But sometimes adults make difficult decisions that you don’t yet understand.” She looked at Diego one last time; there was no anger, only profound disappointment. “I thought you’d changed, Diego… but you’re still the same cowardly man who puts everything before his children… even your stupid pride.” She left. The door closed. The children ran crying to their rooms. Sofia smiled smugly. Diego stood there, feeling like he had just made the worst mistake of his life.
The next two weeks were hell. Diego hired nanny after nanny, and they all failed. The first, an older, serious woman: Mateo chased her away screaming and throwing food at her; she quit on the first day. The second, young and inexperienced: Santiago locked her in the bathroom; she left crying. The third, strict like a military man: when Lucas had a crying fit, she didn’t know what to do; Diego fired her. The children stopped eating properly, they looked thinner, sadder, more broken. They spoke to Diego only in monosyllables: “Yes, sir. No, sir.” As if he were strange, not Dad. Their grades dropped, and the teachers called, worried. The children, who had always been diligent, no longer did their homework; they drew a picture of a dark-haired woman in an apron and wrote underneath: “We miss you, Miss Elena.” Every night Diego listened to his children crying, quietly so he wouldn’t hear… but he heard everything and didn’t know how to fix it.
One Friday, Diego prepared a special dinner: tacos al pastor from the best place, a nice table, a family atmosphere. The children sat in silence. No one touched the food. Then Mateo stood up: seven years old, but with the eyes of a weary adult. He looked at his father with pure hatred. “You took away the only person who truly loved us after Mom died. Mom left without choosing… but you sent Miss Elena away. You chose to take her from us.” Tears streamed down his face. “I hate you, Dad. You’re not a real dad. You’re just the man who pays the bills.” He ran upstairs; Santiago and Lucas followed without looking back. Diego was left alone, surrounded by untouched food, and he cried: deep, broken sobs. His cell phone rang. It was Gabriela: “Diego, the fifty-million-dollar merger needs your signature urgently.” Diego hung up without answering, threw the phone against the wall; the screen shattered. He screamed alone in that enormous house: “Elena, forgive me!” No one answered.
Gabriela barged in without knocking, wearing that worried expression she’d had for days. “Diego, you missed three meetings this week. The board is considering removing you as CEO. You have to act.” Diego cut her off, desperate: “Gabriela… where’s Elena?” Gabriela sighed as if she’d been expecting that question. “I already told you: she went back to those five families. She’s working extra night shifts. She’s also staying with a cousin in Iztapalapa because she had to leave her apartment in Naucalpan to save money and send it to her mother, who’s gotten worse.” Diego jumped up so fast his chair rolled and hit the wall. “Give me the address of where she’s working right now. Right now.” Gabriela pulled out her phone and sent him the location. Diego grabbed his keys and ran out without locking the office, without turning off the lights, caring about nothing but finding her.
He drove like a maniac all over the city. He went to the old apartment in Naucalpan, but she didn’t live there anymore. He went to a house in Las Lomas where she used to work on Tuesdays, but she’d already left. He called nanny agencies, but no one had any information. He was about to give up when Gabriela texted: “I found her. She’s in Tlalpan working an extra shift. Family home with four kids. I’ll send you the address.” Diego sped down Insurgentes, dodging cars and trucks. It was 11:15 when he arrived; a quiet street, a middle-class house. He parked and waited, his heart pounding so hard his chest ached. At 11:30, the door opened. Elena came out, tired, dressed simply, her hair in a messy bun. She looked thinner, sadder, more broken. She opened her old umbrella because it was starting to rain.
