The Miracle
The next morning, Dolores went to the hospital and handed over the money. The surgery was successful. When she awoke, weak but alive, the first face she saw was Ramón, sitting beside her bed, eyes red and swollen.
“Mom,” he whispered, voice breaking. “I’m so sorry. That day… I was scared of what my wife would say. I should never have treated you that way.”
Dolores smiled faintly, her frail hand covering his.
“Son, a mother never stays angry. Money can be earned again, but a mother’s heart, once broken, can never be replaced.”
Ramón broke down, resting his head on her hand like a child. Outside, sunlight filtered through the hospital window—warm and golden—just like forgiveness.
