Chapter 12
By afternoon, Antonio found himself walking up the grand staircase toward the fourth floor. The oak door, once locked like a tomb, remained wide open. Sunlight streamed through the lace curtains, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air.
He stepped inside his son’s old room for the first time in five years.
The toy blocks, the miniature racing cars, and the small wooden bed remained untouched, yet the oppressive air of grief had evaporated. It no longer felt like a shrine to the dead; it felt like a room waiting for life to return.
A soft pair of footsteps padded softly behind him.
Antonio turned to see Mia standing in the doorway, holding her red-and-white toy stethoscope tightly against her chest.
“Can I check your heart again, Mister?” she asked, tilting her head.
Antonio knelt down on one knee, coming eye-level with the little girl. A subtle, genuine warmth reached his eyes.
“Be my guest, Dr. Mia,” he murmured.
Mia stepped forward, pressing the plastic disk firmly against the center of his chest. She closed her eyes in exaggerated concentration, listening intently.
After a long moment, she opened them and broke into a wide, toothy grin.
May you like
“It’s beating strong,” she announced proudly. “And the sad music is all gone.”
Antonio gently ruffled her dark hair, a quiet laugh escaping his lips. “You might just be the best doctor in New York.”
