For several minutes he could not speak. He only hugged the pillow in his room as tears fell uncontrollably.
Carlos, his father, received the call shortly after.
His reaction was different.
He sighed deeply, as if an invisible weight had been removed from his shoulders.
“It was inevitable…” he murmured.
The funeral was held two days later at a small funeral home in Coyoacán.
The sky was grey and heavy.
Sofia sat in front of the white coffin, her eyes red from so much crying.
Inside, Maria Fernanda seemed to sleep.
They had placed some flowers around the coffin: white lilies, sunflowers and roses.
Flowers.
Just like the ones she had always loved.
Charles arrived with.
But it didn’t come alone.
Daniela walked beside her.
He wore black, wore dark glasses and feigned a sad expression. Some people in the room murmured upon seeing her. It was not appropriate that he be there so close to Carlos, especially when everyone knew the rumors.
Sofia saw them come in.
His heart squeezed tightly.
He didn’t say anything.
He just looked away.
After the religious ceremony, when most attendees were beginning to retire, an older man in a gray suit slowly approached.
He was a lawyer, Ricardo Herrera, the family’s trusted lawyer.
“Mr. Carlos,” he said in a calm voice. Mrs. Maria Fernanda left very clear instructions. We must meet today for the reading of his will.
Carlos frowned slightly.
“Today?”
“Yes. She insisted that it be immediately after the funeral.
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