Tomás handed her a strict schedule and medical notes. “Special formula every three hours. Temperature steady. Weekly pediatric appointments. Sensitive lungs.”
“If anything happens,” he said, already half gone, “you call me.”
He paid her in cash.
No contract.
No questions.
Like Rosa wasn’t a person—just a function.
And in that beautiful, cold house, she met Valeria.
Valeria didn’t hate the baby loudly.
That would have been easy to prove.
With neglect.
With indifference.
With the kind of disgust that didn’t need to raise a hand… because it didn’t have to.
Valeria would “forget” to check if Santi had eaten.
She’d disappear for hours, letting dirty diapers pile up like someone else’s problem.
She’d shut the nursery door when he cried at night and turn up the music downstairs.
“For that, you’re here,” she’d say, touching up her lipstick in a mirror as though motherhood were beneath her.
Rosa swallowed her anger.
She rocked Santi.
Until the day Valeria decided she didn’t want to hear crying anymore.
The day Valeria chose silence over a baby’s life.
BACK TO THE PRESENT: THE CALL THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING
Rosa’s thumb hovered over the phone screen.
Tomás’s contact name sat there like a door she’d avoided opening.
Because once she called, she couldn’t take it back.
Calling would mean war.
Calling would mean Valeria’s threats weren’t just threats anymore.
Calling would mean Rosa might lose her job—might lose everything.
But then Rosa looked at Santi on the couch.
Looked at his stillness.
And the choice stopped being complicated.
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