“I understand,” she said simply. And she left, making the journey home in absolute silence.

Three days later, Lucía was in her kitchen, watching the rain fall, when the landline rang. It was the hospital number.

“Mrs. Lucía Fernández?”

“We’re calling from the billing department at Central Hospital,” an administrative, somewhat hurried voice asked. “You’re listed as the emergency contact and financial guarantor on your son’s medical record. Look, the insurance covered part of it, but there were minor complications and private room expenses that the insurance doesn’t cover. The delivery bill has an outstanding balance of $10,000. We need to process the payment today to complete the administrative discharge.”

Lucía took a deep breath. She remembered the twelve-hour trip. She remembered the locked door.