Camila, for her part, seemed oblivious to the commotion. Her breathing was steady, her small chest rising and falling with a rhythm that seemed to echo the heartbeat of the house itself. She appeared to be in a deep sleep, her face serene against the stark whiteness of her father’s shirt. Julián’s hand lay across her back with a tenderness that no one could quite comprehend, its position suggesting a last gesture of paternal love that defied the boundaries of life and death.