Chapter 20 - The Easter Egg
It was Easter Sunday once again.
Exactly one year had passed since the rainy afternoon when my mother had grabbed my four-year-old daughter by the hair and thrown us out into the storm, believing we meant nothing.
The sun was shining brilliantly over San Ángel, casting a warm, golden glow across the estate. There was no tension, no fake smiles, no whispered insults behind polished porcelain teacups, and no fear of judgment.
On the long wooden table in the sunlit garden, dozens of beautifully painted Easter eggs lay scattered across a white linen cloth.
Sofia, now five years old, walked up to the table wearing a bright yellow dress that made her look like an elegant little chick, holding a bright blue egg covered in tiny hand-painted flowers.
She turned around, her big, bright eyes looking up at me with absolute innocence and joy.
“Mommy, can I place this one right in the middle?” she asked, holding the egg up carefully in her small palms.
May you like
I walked over, knelt down beside her, and gently wrapped my arms around her shoulders, helping her place the blue egg safely in the exact center of the table.
“You can place it anywhere you want, sweetheart,” I smiled, kissing the top of her head as the spring breeze whispered gently through the trees around us. “It’s your table now.”
