Chapter 1
The scorching May sun beat down on the tin roof of the backyard, but Elena felt her blood run cold when she saw her 15-year-old daughter double over in pain beside the washbasin. Just a few weeks earlier, Sofía had been a whirlwind of energy, spending her afternoons dancing to cumbia music in her bedroom and wandering the neighborhood market with her friends to buy cheap makeup. Now, she was only a shadow of herself.
For the past three weeks, she had been dragging her feet through the house, her face pale and exhausted. She barely touched the plate of enchiladas sitting on the plastic-covered table and rushed to the bathroom every morning, overcome by waves of nausea that left her stomach empty.
Elena possessed the kind of intuition only a mother hardened by life's struggles could have. She knew something was terribly wrong.
That evening, while warming tortillas on the griddle, she finally broke the silence.
"We have to take her to the clinic. She's barely eaten for twenty days, she sleeps all the time, and she's running a fever," Elena said, wiping her hands on her apron.
Arturo, her husband of ten years and Sofía's stepfather, never took his eyes off the soccer game on television. He took a long drink from his beer and let out a dismissive snort.
"Stop exaggerating, Elena. That girl is just pretending so she doesn't have to help around the house. You know what teenage girls are like these days—nothing but drama to get attention. I'm not wasting the money I earn breaking my back at the repair shop on doctors because of one little tantrum. Give her some chamomile tea and tell her to sweep the floor."
His words landed like stones.
Arturo had always been a harsh man, the kind who believed shouting and pounding his fist on the table were the only ways to earn respect inside a home.
Standing quietly in the hallway, Sofía heard every word.
She lowered her eyes, wrapped both arms around her stomach, and silently returned to her bedroom without making a sound.
Elena noticed the way her daughter's shoulders tensed every time Arturo raised his voice. Before, she had assumed it was simply fear of being scolded. Now, that tiny detail twisted her stomach with unease.
The final straw came at three o'clock in the morning.
Elena got up for a glass of water when she heard muffled sobbing coming from Sofía's room.
She rushed inside and found her daughter curled into a ball on the bed, drenched in cold sweat, clutching her stomach.
"Mom... it hurts so much... please make it stop," the terrified fifteen-year-old whispered through tears.
Elena didn't hesitate.
The next morning, as soon as Arturo left for work, she put Sofía into a taxi and spent the savings she had hidden inside an old cookie tin to take her to a private clinic four blocks from their home.
The examination room smelled of antiseptic... and fear.
An elderly doctor wearing thick glasses performed an ultrasound.
The machine hummed softly in the silence.
Then...
His hand suddenly froze.
His eyes widened behind the lenses, and every trace of color drained from his face.
He stared at the monitor.
Then at the girl.
Finally, at her mother.
Swallowing hard, he lowered his voice to a trembling whisper, as though even the walls shouldn't hear what he was about to say.
"Ma'am... there's something inside her."
Elena felt the floor disappear beneath her feet.
"Something? What do you mean, 'something'? Is it a tumor? Please, tell me what's wrong with my daughter!" she cried, her heart pounding wildly.
The doctor slowly turned off the monitor and folded his hands together.
"Your daughter is fifteen years old... and she's fourteen weeks pregnant."
A strangled gasp caught in Elena's throat.
She turned toward Sofía.
Instead of looking shocked, the girl collapsed into heartbreaking sobs, covering her face with both hands as her whole body trembled uncontrollably.
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In that instant, a horrifying suspicion flashed through Elena's mind—a possibility so monstrous it stole the air from her lungs.
It was impossible to believe what she was beginning to fear..
