“Watch me.”
I left before she could argue, but her words followed me down the hallway. Something’s different. Whether you want to admit it or not.
The days developed their own rhythm after that—a gentler one than I was used to. Lily spoke more, short sentences that came easier each time. “Good morning, Sarah.” “Can we read this?” “Thank you, Daddy.” Each word felt like watching something fragile become stronger, and I couldn’t get enough of hearing her voice.
We did our sessions in the therapy room like always, but now Hector participated instead of watching from his office. He’d bring Lily warm cocoa halfway through, praise her when she completed an exercise, sit quietly in the corner and observe without making her self-conscious.
And I noticed him watching me too—quick glances when he thought I wasn’t paying attention, his expression unreadable. Sometimes our eyes would meet, and I’d look away instantly, my pulse doing something complicated that I refused to analyze.
One afternoon, I wandered into a part of the penthouse I’d never explored before. A glass door led to a rooftop garden, and when I stepped outside, the sight stopped me completely.
Flowers bloomed everywhere—roses, hydrangeas, and delicate plants I couldn’t name—arranged with a kind of intentional tenderness. The space was beautiful in a way that felt intentional, like someone had poured love into every corner.
Mrs. Valdez loved gardens.” Mrs. Pearson’s voice drifted from behind me, and I turned to find her standing in the doorway. “Mr. Valdez planted all of this for her. Spent months researching which flowers would thrive up here, what colors she’d like best. He used to come out here every evening to care for them.”
“Used to?”
“Not since the accident. He hired workers to maintain it, but he hasn’t set foot in this garden in two years.” Her expression carried a sadness that made my chest ache. “He can’t bear to see what he built for her.”
I looked back at the flowers, imagining Hector kneeling in the dirt with his hands in the soil. Creating something beautiful for the woman he loved, pouring his heart into every plant. And then losing her and never being able to come back to this place that held so much of what they’d shared.
The image of that man, the one who planted gardens and sang while cooking, kept colliding with the cold, controlled version I’d known for six months. How much grief did it take to transform someone so completely? How much pain to make you abandon the things that once brought you joy?
I stayed in the garden longer, running my fingers over rose petals and breathing in the scent of jasmine. Wondering what it would take for Hector to find his way back here. If he even wanted to.
When I finally went back inside, I found Hector talking to Lily. He was crouched over her shoulders speaking words too low for me to hear.
I caught myself noticing things I’d spent months pretending not to see. I already knew the way Hector’s hand went to the back of his neck when he was uncertain about something, but watching the way he looked at his daughter with such fierce protectiveness made my chest ache.
I used to look at him and feel nothing but frustration. Now I couldn’t stop noticing the small gestures—the ones that revealed the man underneath all that control. couldn’t stop seeing the person underneath all that control. And I didn’t know how to make myself stop.
The more I tried not to think about this guarded man—his walls, his grief, his unexpected moments of kindness—the more my brain insisted on doing exactly that.
I needed to find a new apartment. Soon. Before whatever was happening in my chest became something I couldn’t pretend wasn’t happening.
Mr. Valdez’s birthday is next week,” Mrs. Pearson mentioned one morning over breakfast. “The fifteenth.”
I looked up from my coffee. “Does he usually do anything for it?”
“He’s been out of town the last two years. Always schedules business trips around that time—conveniently.” Mrs. Pearson’s tone suggested the timing wasn’t coincidental at all. “But he’ll be here this year. First time since Mrs. Valdez passed.”
The weight of that information settled in my chest. Running away from the day by burying himself in work, by making sure he was anywhere but home where memories lived. I understood that instinct more than I wanted to admit.
“We should do something,” I said before I could talk myself out of it.
Gianna looked up from her phone. “Like what?”
“I don’t know. Something small. Just to acknowledge the day.” I looked at Lily, who was coloring at the table. “Don’t you think your daddy deserves a celebration?”
Lily’s eyes went wide, and she nodded so enthusiastically her braids bounced. “Surprise party?”
“Exactly. A surprise party. Nothing huge, just the people in this house. What do you think?”
“This is either going to be wonderful or a complete disaster,” Gianna said. “The last birthday he was actually here for was with Mrs. Valdez. This could bring up a lot of feelings.”
“Or it could show him that being here, being present, doesn’t have to hurt.” I watched Lily already sketching something that looked like a cake. “And I think Lily’s been waiting a long time to celebrate with her father again.”
“She has,” Mrs. Pearson said quietly. “Even if she never said it.”
