CHAPTER 2 — THE VOICE FROM THE SHRINE
The dining room remained frozen in absolute silence.
No one spoke.
No one even seemed to breathe.
Leo continued staring through the glass doors toward the Talavera shrine in the garden, his small face calm, almost peaceful, while everyone else felt an invisible weight settle over the room.
Doña Beatriz was the first to recover.
She laughed.
Not because she found it funny.
Because she refused to feel afraid.
"Children invent imaginary friends all the time," she scoffed, cutting into her pastry with unnecessary force. "It's what abandoned children do. They create stories because reality is too painful."
Arturo shot his mother a warning look.
"Enough."
"I'm simply telling the truth."
"No," Elena replied quietly. "You're trying to hurt a little boy."
Beatriz shrugged.
"If he wants to stay in this family, he'll have to learn the difference between fantasy and reality."
Leo never answered.
Instead, he carefully finished his soup, thanked Elena for dinner, and asked if he could go outside.
Elena hesitated.
"It'll be dark soon."
"I know."
"I just want to say goodnight."
"To whom?" Beatriz asked sarcastically.
Leo looked toward the garden.
"To the lady."
The evening air carried the sweet fragrance of jasmine and roses.
Moonlight bathed the old shrine in soft silver light.
The marble statue of Our Lady of Guadalupe seemed almost alive beneath the flickering candle Elena had lit every evening since marrying Arturo.
From the kitchen window, Elena watched Leo slowly approach the shrine.
He didn't kneel immediately.
Instead, he stood quietly, as though waiting for someone to finish speaking.
Then...
He smiled.
A genuine smile.
One Elena had never seen before.
The little boy nodded several times.
Almost as if he were listening to a conversation no one else could hear.
Finally, he knelt.
Folded his tiny hands.
Closed his eyes.
And whispered words too soft for anyone inside the house to understand.
Elena felt goosebumps rise across her arms.
Something about the moment didn't feel imaginary.
It felt...
Sacred.
Three nights later, strange things began happening inside the house.
Not frightening things.
Simply...
Impossible ones.
Every evening, Elena lit a single candle inside the shrine before bedtime.
Every morning...
The candle was burning again.
Freshly lit.
Its wax untouched.
At first, she assumed Arturo was relighting it.
Arturo assumed Elena was doing it.
Neither of them had.
One morning, Elena found fresh white lilies lying at the Virgin's feet.
She hadn't bought flowers that week.
Arturo hadn't either.
When she asked the gardener, he looked genuinely confused.
"There aren't any lilies growing anywhere on the property."
Elena quietly threw them away.
The next morning...
Two fresh lilies appeared again.
Doña Beatriz dismissed everything.
"Someone is playing childish games."
She blamed the gardener.
Then the housekeeper.
Then Arturo.
Finally...
She blamed Leo.
"I knew bringing that child here would invite trouble."
"He sneaks outside every night."
"He's trying to scare everyone."
Arturo frowned.
"He's four years old."
"So?"
"He could still be lying."
Elena stood.
"Enough."
But Beatriz wasn't finished.
She marched into Leo's bedroom while he was quietly drawing with colored pencils.
"What exactly are you doing outside every night?"
Leo looked up.
"Talking."
"To who?"
"The lady."
"There is no lady."
"There is."
"Where?"
Leo slowly pointed toward the garden.
"She waits beside the roses."
Beatriz folded her arms.
"And what does she tell you?"
Leo answered without hesitation.
"She says you cry when nobody is watching."
The room became deathly still.
Color drained from Beatriz's face.
For a split second...
Her confident expression cracked.
Because no one—
Not even Arturo—
Knew that every year on the anniversary of her daughter's death, Beatriz locked herself inside her bedroom and cried until dawn.
It was a secret she had kept for twenty-seven years.
No one had ever seen.
No one had ever been told.
Yet somehow...
This little orphan had spoken it aloud.
Beatriz's hands began to tremble.
"Who told you that?"
Leo tilted his head.
"The lady."
That night, Beatriz couldn't sleep.
She paced the hallway until after midnight.
Finally, determined to prove the child was lying, she quietly slipped into the garden.
The moon hung low over the ancient trees.
Everything was silent.
She approached the shrine.
"There," she whispered.
"Nothing."
She reached toward the marble statue.
Cold.
Solid.
Ordinary.
Just as she turned to leave...
A soft breeze swept through the garden.
The candle inside the shrine suddenly flared brighter without anyone touching it.
Beatriz froze.
Then she heard it.
Not a voice.
Not exactly.
More like...
A whisper carried by the wind.
Gentle.
Almost impossible to understand.
She spun around.
No one.
The garden was empty.
Her heart pounded.
"Who's there?"
Silence.
She hurried back toward the house, refusing to look over her shoulder.
Inside, she locked every door.
But before going upstairs...
She glanced through the dining-room window one last time.
Leo was standing beside the shrine.
Looking directly at her.
He wasn't frightened.
He wasn't smiling.
He simply raised one small hand and softly said—
"She told me not to be afraid for you anymore."
Beatriz felt the blood drain from her face.
Because for the first time in her life...
She wasn't afraid of the little boy.
May you like
She was afraid of what he might actually know.
END OF CHAPTER 2...
