But what happened next stunned him.
Lucía didn’t go near the table. Instead, she walked over and gently draped a blanket over his shoulders. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, she sighed, “I wish I weren’t so alone…”
She picked up the gold watch—not to steal it, but to wipe it gently with her handkerchief, treating it like something precious that belonged to someone she respected. She placed it back exactly where it had been.
Before leaving, she paused and set something small on the table—a dried daisy and a folded piece of paper.
When she was gone, Alejandro sat up, unable to resist his curiosity. On the note, written in shaky handwriting, were the words:
“Sometimes, those who have everything need something as simple as being seen as good.”
That sentence echoed in his mind all night. It was both painful and comforting.
The next morning, Alejandro watched Lucía from his study as she cleaned vegetables in the kitchen. Her silence wasn’t distant—it was peaceful. It wasn’t ambition—it was honesty. Pure, quiet honesty.
