—And please —added Noelia—, send us someone who truly loves us like a mother.
Noemí stood motionless in the hallway, her hand resting on the wall, her eyes filling with tears without permission.
The next day, with the girls gone from the house, she mustered up her courage and asked Doña Lupita:
—What happened to Mr. Alejandro?
The woman arranged some flowers in a vase, sighed, and sat down opposite it.
“It wasn’t always like this. Before this house, there was more light. More laughter. His wife gave him that.”
—What was his name?
—Daniela. They adored each other. But they had an accident on the way to their honeymoon. She died. And he… well, he buried almost everything he was along with her. He only left out enough to keep breathing.
Noemí felt a pang in her chest.
—And the girls?
He loves them madly. But pain makes love quieter than it should be.
Before Noemí could answer, firm heels clicked in the hallway. An elegant woman, with sharp eyes and perfectly styled hair, entered the kitchen without knocking.
It was Elena Salvatierra, Alejandro’s mother.
His eyes scanned Naomi from head to toe.
—So you’re the woman from the gate.
Noemí stood up immediately.
—Good afternoon, ma’am.
“I’m glad to hear she’s better,” Elena said coldly. “Recovery is important. So is knowing when kindness has lasted long enough.”
Naomi understood the message. She lowered her eyes.
—Yes, ma’am.
When Elena left, Doña Lupita muttered under her breath:
—That woman could freeze a window in August.
Noemí almost smiled, but inside, other things were already stirring. At night, she dreamed of a white room, with two babies wrapped in soft blankets, their tiny cries drifting away from her arms. She would wake up with a heavy heart and tears streaming down her face.
One morning, while combing Nadia and Noelia’s hair before school, she saw a photograph of them as newborns on the dresser. Her hands trembled as she picked up the frame. Something deep inside her recognized those little faces before her mind dared to say it.
Doña Lupita later found her in her room, pale.
—He didn’t sleep, did he?
Noemí sat down slowly on the bed.
“There are things that one buries very deep,” she said, “but they don’t die.”
And then, at last, he spoke.
She told him about Julián, her younger brother. About how she had raised him since their parents died. About how she worked herself to exhaustion so he could study. About how a private clinic offered her a completely confidential surrogacy contract in exchange for a sum that could pay for Julián’s university education in Europe. About how she signed it crying, believing the sacrifice would be worth it.
“I wasn’t supposed to know who the family was,” she said, her voice breaking. “And they weren’t supposed to know who I was either. It was just going to be a contract. But then they told me there were two babies… and it wasn’t a contract anymore. I talked to them. I sang to them. I prayed for them. And the day they were born, they put them in my arms for a minute… one minute. Then they took them away.”
Doña Lupita was frozen.
—And your brother?
Noemí let out a bitter laugh.
He became the successful lawyer he wanted to be. And when I finally saw him again, he treated me like I was an embarrassment, a reminder of his poverty. Then I lost everything: my job, my home, my strength. And I ended up here.
Before Doña Lupita could answer, there was a sharp knock on the door.
Alejandro was there.
I had listened enough.
His face was pale as if the blood had suddenly gushed out.
“What did he say?” he asked, almost voiceless.
Noemí closed her eyes.
—That ten years ago I brought two girls into the world whom I never got to see again.
At that moment, another voice sounded from the hallway.
—I knew there was something.
It was Elena Salvatierra.
No one had noticed she was there. In her hands she carried an old envelope. She entered with slow steps, her usual rigidity broken for the first time.
“I knew her name years ago,” she said, looking at Noemí. “I kept it a secret. I was the one who insisted on anonymity. My son didn’t want to know anything about the woman who was going to carry his daughters. I thought it was for the best. I thought that way everything would be clean… without complications. And now I understand the cruelty involved.”
Alejandro looked at her, shocked.
—Did you know?
Elena nodded, her voice broken.
—Yes. And I’m ashamed of it.
There was a heavy, alive, almost sacred silence.
Noemí wanted to stand up, she wanted to leave before she broke down completely, but at that moment the twins came running in from the school, still with their backpacks on their shoulders.
—Miss Noemí! —Noelia shouted.
They stopped when they saw everyone’s faces.
