A Memory Reawakened
As he stood there, a memory flickered to life — his own daughter, years ago, sitting cross-legged on that same carpet, coloring while he took business calls.
He remembered telling her, again and again, “Daddy’s working.”
Now, surrounded by the silence he’d built, he finally heard what she must have felt.
He swallowed hard. “What are their names?” he asked quietly.
Elena blinked. “This is Mateo, Lila, and Sofia,” she replied softly.
Marc nodded. “And they’re hungry?”
She shook her head. “No, sir. We’re fine.”
But he saw the truth — in the boy’s stolen glance at the food, in the worn shoes by the door.
