CHAPTER 1 – THE THREE PLATES
The phone rang three times before going silent.
Then it rang again.
Carlos glanced at the screen while typing an email.
DAD.
He sighed and rejected the call.
A few seconds later, another message appeared.
"Son, if you have a little time this Sunday, I'd love to see Sofía."
Carlos locked the screen without replying.
Across the living room, his wife Mariela folded her arms.
“Again?” she asked.
“He's just lonely.”
“Your father is always lonely, Carlos. We have our own lives.”
Carlos rubbed his temples.
Work had been brutal lately. Bills were piling up. The car needed repairs. Everything felt heavy.
Still, something about the message bothered him.
Before he could answer, little footsteps echoed down the hallway.
Eleven-year-old Sofía appeared wearing pink pajamas and carrying her school backpack.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
She hesitated.
“Does Grandpa still remember me?”
The question hit him like a punch.
“What kind of question is that?”
She looked down.
“Because I think he misses us.”
Silence.
Mariela quickly interrupted.
“Sweetheart, Grandpa knows your dad is busy.”
But Sofía kept staring at her father.
“Grandpa called on my birthday.”
Carlos frowned.
“He did?”
She nodded.
“You were in the shower. Mom answered and then told me Grandpa forgot it was my birthday.”
Carlos looked at his wife.
Mariela didn't blink.
“You probably misunderstood.”
The little girl didn't answer.
But something cold settled inside Carlos's chest.
Sunday arrived.
Carlos almost canceled the visit.
Again.
But Sofía refused.
“Please, Dad. I miss him.”
So, after lunch, they got into the car and drove to Puebla.
The entire trip felt strangely quiet.
When they reached the small neighborhood, the familiar house looked even older than before.
Flowerpots lined the entrance.
An image of the Virgin of Guadalupe hung beside the door.
The curtains moved slightly.
Someone had been watching for them.
Carlos knocked.
No answer.
He knocked again.
Finally, the door opened.
Don Mateo stood there.
His white hair was messy.
His sweater looked too big for his thin frame.
But his smile…
His smile lit up like Christmas morning.
“Well,” he whispered. “Look who came.”
Sofía ran into his arms.
The old man hugged her so tightly that tears immediately filled his eyes.
“You've grown so much, my little princess.”
Carlos suddenly felt guilty.
How long had it been?
Three months?
No.
Almost five.
Five months without visiting his father.
“Come in,” Don Mateo said happily.
The smell of homemade chicken soup filled the house.
Everything was spotless.
Too spotless.
As if someone had been cleaning for hours.
Then Carlos saw the dining table.
He froze.
Three plates.
Three glasses.
Three folded napkins.
Three chairs.
One of them was smaller, exactly the size Sofía used when she was younger.
His throat tightened.
“Dad…”
Don Mateo looked nervous.
“Who are we waiting for?”
The old man smiled awkwardly.
“No one.”
Carlos frowned.
“Then why are there three places?”
Silence.
Don Mateo looked down.
Then he said softly:
“Because every Sunday I set the table like this… just in case my family comes home.”
The room became painfully quiet.
Even Mariela didn't know what to say.
Sofía looked ready to cry.
Don Mateo quickly changed the subject.
“Sit, sit. The soup is getting cold.”
During lunch, Sofía talked nonstop.
About school.
About her best friend.
About a teacher who always forgot names.
About wanting to learn guitar.
Don Mateo listened to every word as if he were receiving treasures.
Carlos barely touched his food.
He couldn't stop looking at his father.
The wrinkles.
The trembling hands.
The tired eyes.
When had he gotten so old?
After lunch, Don Mateo disappeared into the kitchen and returned carrying a small package.
“For my Sofi.”
Animal crackers.
Her favorite.
She smiled brightly.
Carlos took the bag to open it.
Then he noticed something.
The expiration date.
Today.
The cookies expired that very day.
Which meant…
They had not been bought this morning.
His father had bought them days ago.
Maybe weeks ago.
Waiting.
Hoping.
Believing they would come.
Every Sunday.
Carlos suddenly couldn't breathe.
He stood and walked into the kitchen.
Near the refrigerator hung a calendar.
Dozens of dates had been circled in red.
Hospital appointments.
Blood tests.
Cardiology.
Neurology.
General Hospital.
His hands began to shake.
“Dad…”
Don Mateo entered behind him.
“What are all these appointments?”
“Nothing important.”
“Don't lie to me.”
The old man avoided his eyes.
“Just old people problems.”
Carlos turned toward him.
“When were you planning to tell me?”
A long silence.
Then the old man whispered:
“I tried.”
Carlos frowned.
“What?”
“I called many times.”
“I never got any messages.”
“You didn't answer.”
“I was busy!”
Don Mateo nodded sadly.
“I know.”
“Then why didn't you insist?”
The old man slowly placed a glass on the counter.
Because the answer hurt.
“Your wife asked me not to.”
Carlos froze.
“What?”
Mariela suddenly appeared in the kitchen doorway.
Pale.
Terrified.
Don Mateo's voice broke.
“She said you had enough problems.”
Carlos stared at his wife.
“What is he talking about?”
Mariela swallowed hard.
“Carlos…”
But Don Mateo continued.
“She told me if I kept calling… if I kept asking to see Sofía…”
Tears filled his eyes.
“She said my granddaughter would stop coming forever.”
Silence exploded inside the room.
“What?!” Carlos shouted.
Mariela looked like she had been caught stealing.
“It's not what you think.”
“You threatened my father?”
“I was trying to protect our family!”
“From what?”
She finally screamed:
“From him dying and leaving us with another burden!”
The words hung in the air like poison.
Sofía stood in the hallway.
She had heard everything.
“Mom…”
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
“You didn't let me see Grandpa?”
Mariela's face turned white.
The little girl looked at her grandfather.
Then back at her mother.
“You lied to me.”
“Sweetheart—”
“You lied!”
She burst into tears.
Don Mateo immediately knelt despite the pain in his legs.
“No, no, don't cry, my princess.”
But she wasn't crying for herself.
She was crying because she suddenly understood.
Her grandfather had been alone.
Waiting every Sunday.
Setting three plates.
Buying cookies.
Cooking soup.
Hoping.
And nobody came.
Carlos looked at his father.
Then at the calendar.
Then at his wife.
A terrible feeling rose inside him.
There was something else.
Something much worse.
He pointed at the hospital appointments.
“Dad… tell me the truth.”
The old man looked away.
“It's nothing.”
“Tell me!”
Tears slid down the old man's cheeks.
Finally, he whispered:
“The doctors found something in my heart…”
Carlos stopped breathing.
“And… they don't know how much time I have left.”
The bowl in Sofía's hands crashed onto the floor.
At that exact moment—
Someone knocked on the front door.
Three slow knocks.
Everyone turned.
Don Mateo's face suddenly lost all color.
He whispered only two words:
“He came…”
“Who?” Carlos asked.
The old man looked terrified.
Then he said:
“The man who has been paying for my treatments…”
Another knock echoed through the house.
May you like
And no one knew that the person standing outside that door was about to reveal a secret buried for more than thirty years… a secret that would destroy everything Carlos believed about his family.
TO BE CONTINUED…
