The Benson mansion was silent, but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. It was the kind of calm that only comes when a house begins to say goodbye to those who lived there.
Ámbar carefully carried the last suitcase down the stairs. Not because it was too heavy, but because each step seemed to ask her to pause for a second longer. After all, she had lived there her entire life.
Alfredo was sitting in the living room armchair, his hands resting on his cane. He looked at her tenderly, with that calm attention that always disarmed her.
"So, is that it?" Alfredo asked. "Are you really leaving?"
Ámbar smiled, though not entirely. She was taking a big step in her life and, at the same time, she felt she was leaving many things behind. Even the bad ones.
"Yes," she replied, "but I won't be going far."
She left her suitcase near the door and sat down in front of him.
"I'm happy, Grandpa. I'm very happy with Simón. Besides, he takes care of me, understands me, and is my safe place in the world.
Alfredo smiled.
"I know, Ámbar. I've always known. That boy loves you and cares for you madly. Whenever he looks at you, his eyes shine."
She looked down.
"But I'm still afraid," she confessed, somewhat sadly. "Not of him. I'm afraid of myself and of not knowing who I'll be when I no longer live here. This house is my life.
Alfredo tilted his head slightly.
───Fear is not a sign of error. It's a sign that you're moving forward in your life. And yes, fear is the most normal thing in the world. You've lived here your whole life; it's normal to be terrified of the unknown.
Ámbar looked up.
───Grandpa, what if I make a mistake?
He looked at her intently.
───Then you'll learn something. And then you'll move on. Mistakes are also part of life.
He settled into the armchair and lowered his voice.
───You don't always start where you think you do. Sometimes, in life, you start much earlier and with decisions that others made for you.
Ámbar looked at him, not understanding what he was saying.
───What?
Alfredo looked at her tenderly, unaware that he had just touched an invisible chord.
───Nothing. Just that not everything we are is born when we believe. There are parts of us that come from far away, even if we don't know where.
She felt a slight chill, without understanding why.
"Ámbar, Simón will take care of you," Alfredo continued. "But remember one thing: don't lose yourself trying to fit into any story. Not even a happy one."
Ámbar stood up and hugged him tightly.
"Thank you, Grandpa."
Alfredo closed his eyes for a moment and stroked her hair.
"Go, Ámbar, go," he said. "The future won't wait, but it won't take away what matters. Go find your happiness."
When she walked out the door, she didn't know that would be the last time she would hear her grandfather's voice. Nor did she know that those words, spoken without intention, would come back to her when the past finally became present in her life.
The black dress was still hanging there. Ámbar stared at it for a few seconds that seemed too long. The fabric was simple and discreet. She had no memories associated with wearing one before.
She felt the lump in her throat before the tears appeared.
Simón was behind her. He didn't say anything at first. He just approached slowly and placed his hands on her waist, as if afraid of breaking something fragile.
"Honey, I'm so sorry.
I didn't think it would happen so quickly," he said quietly. "You're never prepared for death, are you?"
A tear fell unbidden down her cheek. She hated that; she hated crying and tried not to show her tears.
Simón kissed her forehead and quickly comforted her.
"My queen. You don't have to be strong right now. You have a right to cry too."
She closed her eyes when she heard that nickname that only he used when everything seemed dark.
───Everything was supposed to be settled in my life ───her voice was broken───. I left the mansion, we slowly built our life together, and suddenly he dies.
Simón rested his forehead against hers.
───Life doesn't ask if we're ready. It just acts without warning. But you have to know that I will never leave you alone.
He hugged her tightly, giving her space to cry. Ámbar clung to him. She didn't want to let go.
───He was my grandfather,─── she lamented. I said goodbye without knowing it was goodbye. I could have told him I loved him. I could have been a better granddaughter.
He kissed her forehead again.
"And you were an excellent granddaughter. Mr. Alfredo left knowing that, my love."
She took a deep breath, trying to calm down.
"I'm afraid of breaking down at the funeral. You know I hate to be seen as weak. I'm afraid of seeing everyone and not knowing how to hide my tears. I'm afraid of not being able to hold it together with Luna."
───Then focus on me, Simón said without hesitation. I'll be by your side the whole time. With me, you have nothing to fear, okay?
Ámbar smiled faintly.
───Thank you for choosing me.
Simón smiled sadly.
───I always choose you. Even on sad days.
He wiped her tears with his thumb.
───Ámbar, let's go together. Like always, together.
Ámbar looked back at the black dress. This time, she wasn't alone.
And that made all the difference.
The cemetery was covered by a gray sky, the kind that doesn't threaten rain, but doesn't let you forget where you are either. After all, no cemetery has color.
Ámbar walked hand in hand with Simón among the gravestones. The air was cold and calm. It was as if even the day knew that it was not a time to be colorful.
Alfredo's coffin was already there.
"He died in his sleep," someone said. "It's a nice way to go at eighty-eight."
That was the consolation. Alfredo simply hadn't woken up. As the great dreamer he always was, life, God, or fate had decided that his earthly journey would end with a dream. Like all dreamers, he wanted to die.
Luna was standing next to Matteo. She was dressed in black, her eyes red from crying. There was no trace of the cheerful girl she used to be; she was a heartbroken granddaughter who had just lost her grandfather. Ámbar saw her break down even before she approached to hug her.
Miguel and Mónica Valente were a few steps behind, holding hands. Mónica held a white handkerchief between her fingers, her gaze fixed on the coffin, as if she still expected Alfredo to get up from there. Miguel, for his part, looked at the ground, serious, silent, with a quiet sadness. Alfredo was not only his daughter's grandfather, but also his friend.
Rey was there. He stood apart, his hands clasped together. He didn't speak, and his presence was almost uncomfortable, but real. He had loved Mr. Alfredo very much.
Elena was sitting on one of the benches, wearing a dark coat and a simple hat. She was holding a small cloth bag in her hands.
Inside was a cup wrapped in paper. The same cup her close friend used every afternoon to drink tea. She wasn't crying. Her eyes were just moist, because her sadness was serene, as if she were saying goodbye to a friend who had had a good life and had passed away peacefully.
Ámbar was next to Luna. They were two granddaughters saying goodbye to their grandfather.
Luna burst into tears again.
───I wasn't ready. I thought I still had a lot of time left to share with him.
Ámbar closed her eyes, hiding her tears.
───No one thought he would leave us from one day to the next. But he loved you until the very last day. That will never go away. His love for you will always remain alive.
Matteo put a hand on Luna's back, silently respecting the embrace that seemed to hold her up.
The priest spoke of a long life, a peaceful death, and an ideal farewell. He said that Alfredo now rested in peace.
Ámbar didn't think about peace. She only thought about the afternoons at the mansion with him, the unhurried conversations they had, and the advice that would never come back.
The coffin was lowered slowly. Alfredo would be buried next to his wife, the love of his life, the mother of Sharon and Lili.
When it was over, the silence in the cemetery was louder than any prayer.
Ámbar looked at the place where her grandfather was no longer. And she realized that the black dress she was wearing was not just to say goodbye to him. It was to begin to let him go. She took a few steps back. It wasn't an escape, but she needed air.
The murmur of voices, the restrained hugs, the hands that shook with repeated words (I'm sorry, he was a great man, rest in peace) began to merge into a diffuse background.
She needed air. She stopped near a tree, far enough away not to be seen, but close enough not to disappear.
From there, she saw Luna clinging to Matteo. She also saw Miguel and Mónica talking and watched Rey, who looked uncomfortable, as if he had never learned what to do in the face of death.
She looked down. She thought of her grandfather. Of his calm voice and how he always seemed to know when to speak and when to be silent.
───Ámbar.
The voice pulled her out of her thoughts.
She looked up and saw Elena. She wasn't smiling, but she didn't seem sad either. She wore a different kind of sadness, the kind that is carried with dignity.
───Sorry... I didn't mean to interrupt you. I just wanted to say hello and offer my condolences, Ámbar.
Ámbar accepted and took a small step toward her.
───Thank you for coming ───she replied with a sincere smile───. Alfredo loved you very much.
Elena let out a sad laugh.
───And I loved him. All those afternoons we shared tea ───she shook her head───. Who would have thought they would become memories so quickly?
There was a brief silence. It was comfortable and necessary.
───You know? ───Elena continued───. In the last few weeks, he talked about you a lot.
Ámbar looked up, surprised.
───About me?
Elena smiled.
───He said you were a great woman. That you were becoming one little by little and that you were going to be even more so. He spoke of your future with pride that he made no attempt to hide.
Ámbar felt a chill run through her body. She hadn't expected to hear those words.
"He always saw things that you didn't see in yourself," Ámbar murmured.
"That's what he said about you. That you had a different kind of strength and that you had been through a lot. And yet you were still standing. Alfredo admired that about you."
Elena hesitated for a second before continuing, but decided it was the right thing to do.
───Luna was and is his blood granddaughter. The one who smiled and continues to smile just like Lili. He always said that. But you, Ámbar, you were his other pride and joy.
Ámbar didn't respond immediately. She just swallowed and suddenly her eyes moistened, but she didn't let the tears fall. Not now.
───Thank you, Elena, she said. Your words really do me good.
Elena placed her hand on her shoulder.
───He would be at peace knowing that you heard him.
When Elena walked away, Ámbar was alone again.
But it was no longer the same silence. There was something different. Even in his farewell, Alfredo had found a way to tell her what he never needed to say in life.
Ámbar took a deep breath. She stared at the floor when she heard familiar footsteps approaching. She didn't need to turn around to know who it was. She knew him perfectly well.
Simón stood behind her carefully. He placed a hand on her waist and, without rushing, leaned down to kiss her neck very gently.
She closed her eyes.
───My queen ───he always treated her with such tenderness───. Whenever you're ready, we'll go.
She rested her forehead against his chest, finally letting out a couple of tears that she no longer tried to hold back. Simón wrapped his arms around her.
Because some goodbyes hurt, but they don't happen on their own. And Ámbar wasn't alone.
The apartment was silent when they arrived. It was a different kind of silence than that of a cemetery. It was smaller, more real. The kind of place where every object had been chosen by the two of them. The gray armchair by the window, Ámbar's cup always leaning crookedly on the table, and Simón's slippers abandoned in the hallway.
They lived together. Not as an adventure, but as a stable decision.
Ámbar left her coat on the chair and stood there for a few seconds, as if her body had only just realized that the day was over. The phone rang in her hand.
───Delfi?
On the other end was her friend.
"My friend, I'm so sorry," Delfina lamented. "I even regret the distance between us. You don't know how much I would have liked to be there with you."
Ámbar sat down slowly on the couch.
"Thank you, Delfi," she murmured, tired. "It was sad, but she fell asleep. That helps me not feel so sad."
Delfina sighed.
"Alfredo was a great man. And I'm sure he adored you."
She paused briefly.
"I'm in Paris now, but if at any time you need to talk, cry, scream, or just be quiet, call me. Any time, okay?"
Ámbar closed her eyes.
───Thank you, Delfi. I love you very much.
They said goodbye without drama, as friends who no longer need to explain themselves too much do.
When she hung up, Simón was leaning against the kitchen doorframe, watching her silently. He approached without saying anything and offered her a mate he had prepared.
───It's washed out,─── he warned, with a half-smile. But it's worth it.
Ámbar smiled.
───Thank you.
They stood there for a few seconds, sharing the mate in silence.
───I was thinking about Sharon,─── she said, breaking the silence. About what her life will be like now. After all, she couldn't reconcile with her father. And now he's gone. I'm more concerned about her mental health than her blindness.
───Blindness isn't just about not being able to see, Simón said. It's about living with memories that sometimes weigh more than they should.
Ámbar looked down. She touched her hair lightly.
───She's getting lost in them, more and more. Sometimes she talks about the fire as if it just happened. About how much she misses Lili and Bernie ───she swallowed hard───. Alfredo was her last relative.
Simón sat down in front of her.
───Luna is still her last blood relative. That's not nothing.
───Except she still doesn't visit her, and it's as if she doesn't exist, ───Ámbar replied, although she quickly changed her mind───. But I'm also his daughter. Even though we don't share blood, I'm also the last thing he has.
He looked at her tenderly.
───That's what matters, my queen, he said, in that soft tone that always carried something of his homeland. Blood doesn't always define family. You are her daughter, and you are her last light.
Ámbar rested her head on his shoulder.
───I'm afraid she'll fade away even more. That she'll be left alone in that darkness.
Simón kissed her hair gently.
"Sharon isn't alone. Not while we're here. Neither you nor I are going to let her fall. I promise, okay?"
Ámbar closed her eyes, as a gesture of thanks to Simón. He just stroked her hair over and over again.
Because even though the past was beginning to reclaim its place, the present still had arms to lean on.
The room in the center where Sharon lived was in permanent darkness. Not because it was nighttime, but because Sharon could no longer tell the difference. The curtains were always drawn, and the air smelled of disinfectant and something old, like memories that no one airs out.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Sharon spoke.
"It wasn't like that," she murmured, her head tilted slightly toward the wall. "I told them to wait for me."
Silence.
Her hands searched for something that wasn't there on the sheets, as if feeling for a face that was no longer there.
"Lili," she whispered. "Don't look at me like that. You know it wasn't my intention."
The wall did not respond. But Sharon continued talking to it.
"Bernie always said I was exaggerating. That the fire was just my fear. Do you remember?" She smiled, a broken smile. "I wanted to believe him too."
Her breathing became irregular.
───Then everything was noise. Screams, heat, that smell... ───She put a hand to her chest───. And I stood there. Watching him burn. Always watching his body burn.
She turned her face to another empty spot in the room. There she saw a figure watching her.
───Dad, you listened to me when I was just a little girl ───she quickly changed her mind───. But when I grew up, you stopped. All I got from you was criticism.
She paused for a long time and changed her mind again
───Despite everything, why did you leave without warning?
Her fingers trembled. She tried unsuccessfully to cry
───Are you with Mom now? Did she tell you that I miss you every day? That sometimes I can't breathe because I regret it so much?
Silence enveloped her again. Sharon bowed her head, exhausted.
───Don't come for me yet, she asked. Not yet.
A tear ran down her blind cheek.
"Let me stay a little longer. I have to take care of what's left. I have to take care of Ámbar."
She stood still. As if she could hear footsteps that only existed in her memory. As if death were sitting in front of her, waiting for her.
And for the first time in a long time, Sharon did not defy it. She only asked death for time.
Jazmín stood in front of the building's door with her arms crossed and a bag of bills pressed against her chest.
"Well," she said, staring at the doorbell as if it were an enemy. "Plan A: We go in, give her a big hug, and don't say anything stupid."
Emilia raised an eyebrow.
"You?" she asked. "Impossible."
"Hey, Emilia," Jazmín complained. "I'm being sensitive. Today I'm a mature, empathetic person and..."
"And a liar," Emilia interrupted, without looking at her.
Jazmín sighed exaggeratedly.
"Okay, Plan B. We say something nice. And if I let a stupid word slip, you elbow me.
"No. If you say something stupid, I'll leave you alone with the guilt.
"What a wonderful friend you are.
Emilia took a deep breath and lowered her voice a little.
───Listen to me, she said, now more serious. Ámbar doesn't need us to fix her life. She needs to know that we're here. That's all.
Jazmín nodded, for once without a joke. And she asked.
───What if she cries?
───We let her cry.
───What if I cry?
───You'll just have to deal with it. You're not the main character today.
Jazmín pressed her lips together, holding back a nervous laugh.
───Okay, she rang the doorbell. Let's save Ámbar's day, or at least ruin it a little less.
The door opened. Simón appeared on the other side with that tired smile you learn to use on difficult days.
"Hi, girls. Come in."
Jazmín went in first and Emilia followed, calmer.
Ámbar was sitting on the couch, her eyes swollen.
Jazmín didn't say anything. She just ran over and hugged her. A strong, somewhat awkward hug. But necessary.
───Damn it, Ámbar. I swear, if the world were fair, today we'd be eating ice cream and talking trash about people. Not mourning losses.
Ámbar let out a choked laugh through her tears.
Emilia came over and took her face in both hands.
───Hey, look at me.
Ámbar looked up.
───You're not broken. You're just sad, and that can't be fixed quickly or nicely.
Jazmín moved away a little.
───But still,─── she added, ───if you want to cry, yell at us, or tell us to go to hell, we're here for that.
───Yes,─── Emilia nodded. ───But don't keep it all inside, okay? Because then it explodes and it's a desmadre.
Jazmín looked at her.
"Un desmadre?" Really?
"Jazmín, I'm Mexican. That's how I talk."
Ámbar wiped her tears.
"Thank you both for being here," she said, her voice breaking. "Really."
Jazmín looked at her seriously for just two seconds.
───Okay, that's it. Emotional moment over. Now tell me: have you eaten anything or are you surviving on sadness and mate?
Emilia sighed.
───See. That's why I didn't let her speak first, and even so, she messes it up.
But Ámbar was already smiling. And for the second time all day, she didn't feel alone.
───Well ───said Jazmín, looking around the apartment as if assessing a crime scene───. It's not bad. It's small, yes. But cozy. Very "Ámbar in responsible adult mode," right?
Ámbar smiled.
Emilia, on the other hand, immediately elbowed her.
"Jazmín, this is not the time to evaluate square footage."
"Hey, I'm cheering her up," she defended herself. "Or would you rather I get deep? Because I can, but I warn you, I'm not good at crying silently."
That was enough to make Ámbar laugh again, briefly and sincerely. It was a tired laugh, but a real one.
Jazmín approached her and put her arms around her.
───I swear, if I could change things in the world, I'd start with this,─── she lamented. Good people shouldn't die, you know? It's unfair. And on top of that, Alfredo, who was a good old man. Life is an emotional scam.
"He was very good to her," said Emilia, more seriously, looking at Ámbar. "You could tell."
Ámbar looked down.
"He always made me feel good enough. Even when I wasn't."
Emilia said nothing. She just sat down next to her, leaning her shoulder against hers. Jazmín, true to form, decided not to let the mood sink too low.
───Besides, Alfredo would be offended if he saw us all with perpetual funeral faces. The guy fell asleep. That's class and style. I want to die like that; without drama and without warning.
───Don't talk nonsense, Emilia challenged her, although she was smiling.
───Nonsense? That was a philosophical reflection.
The three of them stayed like that for a while longer. Chatting about trivial things, old anecdotes, and anything that wasn't the word death, even though it floated around, inevitably.
When Jazmín and Emilia left, the apartment fell silent again. A deeper silence.
Ámbar got into bed without turning on the light. She lay on her side, staring at the wall, her body tired but her mind awake. The whole day weighed heavily on her.
She thought about Alfredo. About his voice and the way he always seemed to know what to say, even when he said nothing. A tear fell silently at the memory.
She felt the mattress sink behind her. Simón settled down slowly, as if afraid of breaking something fragile. He put his arm around her waist and drew her body close to his.
"My queen, my sunshine. You don't have to be strong right now. You can allow yourself to cry."
Ámbar closed her eyes. Another tear escaped.
"It hurts," she admitted. "And I feel ridiculous for feeling this way. He was my grandfather, and he passed away peacefully. He had a beautiful death, but..."
"He was your grandfather," Simón interrupted her gently. "The one who was there for you all these years. The one who loved you and showed you his affection." Of course his absence hurts you.
She turned to look at him. Her eyes were red, swollen, vulnerable in a way she rarely allowed herself to be.
───I'm scared for Sharon and everything else.
Simón wiped her tears away.
───Love ───he said, with that accent that was more pronounced when he spoke from the heart───. Fear doesn't mean you're doing badly. It means you're moving forward.
She leaned against his chest.
───Alfredo used to say something similar.
He smiled.
───Then he was a much wiser man than he was.
They were silent for a few seconds. Simón hugged her tighter.
"I know today was hard, but I want you to know something. You're not alone. Not now, not tomorrow. Not when the weird questions start, not when the past comes knocking on the door again through Sharon."
She took a breath.
"I love you," she said, almost like a thought out loud.
"And I love you, queen," he replied, kissing her. "I love you with all the good and all the bad."
She settled more comfortably into his arms. The world was still uncertain, and the past was still incomplete. But for that night, there was something solid to lean on. And sometimes, that was enough.
Simón held her for a few more seconds. Silence settled between them again.
Ámbar took a deep breath, as if gathering her courage.
"I'm going to see her tomorrow."
Simón didn't ask who. He already knew the answer.
"Sharon?"
She nodded, without looking up.
Simón slowly stroked her back.
"Everything will be all right, my queen."
Ámbar smiled sadly and Simón kissed her tenderly.
"Rest. Tomorrow will be another day."
Ámbar closed her eyes, clinging to him. Tomorrow she would visit Sharon again.
And with her, the memories that no one had managed to bury.