I never imagined that the most painful day of my life was yet to come… until I saw my father leave the cemetery and walk straight to a church.
The Seville sky was gray, heavy, as if it shared our grief. My mother’s coffin had just disappeared beneath the earth. Thirty years of marriage. Thirty years of sacrifice. And there we were, my siblings—María and Javier—and I, trying to stay on our feet while the priest spoke the final words.
My father, Alfredo Ríos, didn’t cry once.
When he finished the final prayer, I thought he would come over to us. That he would at least feign grief. Instead, he turned and walked purposefully toward the side path of the cemetery.
There she was.
Nicole.
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