— The Ducks, The Storm, and the Second Chance
The rain wasn’t gentle.
It came down in sharp lines that turned the sidewalk into a mirror and made the city feel like it was holding its breath.
Luna didn’t care.
She marched forward under the umbrella like a tiny general on a mission, dragging Martín and Sofía behind her.
“We’re finding ducks,” she announced.
Martín tried to sound practical. “Ducks don’t come out in storms.”
Luna pointed at a puddle the size of a bathtub. “That’s basically a lake.”
Sofía laughed, and the sound surprised her—because it didn’t have that careful edge anymore. It didn’t sound like someone practicing happiness. It sounded like someone living it.
They found no ducks.
But they found something else.
A little covered bench near the park fence. The kind of bench people ignored because it wasn’t pretty, wasn’t new, wasn’t part of the city’s “highlight reel.”
Luna climbed up, soaked, proud, grinning. “This is our duck headquarters.”
Martín wiped rain from his forehead. “We’re going to get sick.”
Sofía, still smiling, said quietly, “No.”
Martín looked at her. “No?”
Sofía’s voice softened but didn’t shake. “We’re going to be okay.”
And Martín… Martín didn’t argue. Because he heard what she really meant:
She wasn’t leaving. Not this time.
