Chapter 7: The Doll Still In Mateo's Hands
I stood beside the half-packed suitcase and listened to the house. Sofía stayed pressed against my hip, her injured arm held carefully against her purple dress. The financial records were sealed inside an inner pocket beneath our clothes. The belt lay where I had put it, beyond Teresa’s reach. We could have closed the suitcase and gone straight for the door.
But Sofía kept looking toward the bedroom hallway.
She did not have to tell me what she wanted. The doll had been her birthday gift, and Mateo still had it. Leaving without it would have made the lesson of that afternoon permanent: someone could hurt her, take what belonged to her, and expect her to disappear quietly.
I pulled the zipper partway around the suitcase, leaving enough room to add the few things still missing. Then I took Sofía’s unmarked hand and led her out of the bedroom.
The hallway felt longer than it had earlier. Torn wrapping paper had been pushed against the baseboard. One purple balloon drifted near the ceiling, its ribbon brushing the wall whenever the air moved. At the far end, the living room still held the remains of the birthday gathering. The cake sat on the table with one section cut away, the frosting softening at the edges.
Mateo was on the floor near the couch. The doll was tucked under his arm.
Teresa sat upright beside him. Diego stood near the living room doorway, not looking at the red mark on his daughter’s arm. His attention went first to my face, then to Sofía, as if he were trying to measure what I intended to do before I did it.
I kept Sofía beside me and crossed the room.
Mateo tightened his grip when I reached him. I crouched, placed one hand around the doll’s waist, and drew it steadily from under his arm. I did not yank it or touch him. For a few seconds, his fingers remained caught in the doll’s dress. I waited until they loosened, then stood and put the doll into Sofía’s hands.
She held it against her chest with her good arm. Her shoulders dropped slightly, though she still watched Teresa.
Teresa rose.
Her expression carried the same hard certainty I had seen when she held the belt. She stepped between us and the hallway, then pointed toward Mateo and held out her empty hand for the doll. The gesture was unmistakable. She expected obedience even without the belt. She expected the room to return to the order she had tried to enforce on a six-year-old.
I moved Sofía behind me and did not give the doll back.
Teresa’s face tightened. She turned toward Diego, waiting for him to restore her authority. He responded at once, crossing the room until he stood at her side. He placed himself between me and the shortest path to the front door, but his eyes still avoided Sofía’s arm. He examined the doll, Mateo, and Teresa in turn, as though the real harm was that I had disturbed them.
That choice settled something in me. Diego had seen the mark. He had seen the belt in my hand after I took it from his mother. Yet when Teresa challenged me again, he protected her standing before he protected his daughter.
I took Sofía’s hand and turned back toward the hallway. Diego followed.
We reached the bedroom before I remembered that I had left the suitcase near the foot of the bed, directly visible from the hall. Its lid was raised. Folded clothes filled one side, and Sofía’s pajamas rested on top. The pocket containing the records remained closed and hidden, but nothing could disguise what the suitcase meant.
Diego stopped in the doorway.
His gaze moved from the suitcase to me, then down to Sofía clutching her doll. The hesitation vanished from his face. He finally understood that I was not merely withdrawing from the argument or waiting for Teresa to calm down. I was preparing to take our daughter out of the house.
Teresa appeared behind him, close enough that her shoulder nearly touched his. Mateo stayed farther back in the hall. I could no longer see his face, only one of his hands resting against the wall.
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I guided Sofía to the bed and placed myself between her and the doorway. Diego reached for the raised suitcase lid, but I caught it first and held it open.
For one suspended moment, neither of us moved. Sofía had her doll again. Teresa no longer had the belt or the obedience she demanded. Diego now knew I meant to leave, and the doorway was already his.
