“Well, I hope not.”
A few days later, Santiago and Alma arrived at the family center holding hands. Leticia was already there, sitting quietly with a small photo album in her hands.
“Hello, my precious children.”
Alma hid behind her brother. Santiago studied her for a moment, then released his sister’s hand and stepped closer.
“Are you going to behave now?”
Leticia smiled at him, her expression full of sadness.
“Yes, my love. I’ve learned my lesson. I’m really trying.”
Alma slowly walked toward her and quietly climbed onto her lap. The therapist silently wrote notes. Tomás watched everything from the adjacent room through the one-way mirror typical of Gesell observation rooms. He said nothing—just observed. And for the first time in a long while, he felt that maybe… just maybe… things could work.
The weeks passed quickly. Every Saturday the children went to the family center to visit their mother. The first few meetings were stiff and tense. Alma stayed glued to Santiago’s side, refusing even to go to the bathroom alone, and Leticia never pressured them. She simply stayed there patiently—telling stories, painting pictures, and singing.
Gradually, things began to shift. Alma started to relax. Santiago became calmer and more comfortable. And Leticia, for the first time in years, appeared steady. She arrived punctually, looked tidy and clear-minded; she was fully present.
Tomás never missed a session, always observing from the back room. He never exchanged a single word with Leticia, but he carefully noted every gesture, every movement, everything the children said and did.
One day, after a visit ended, the therapist approached him.
“Mr. Gutiérrez, the children are responding very positively. What would you think about moving to the next phase—spending time together at home, with supervision?”
Tomás didn’t respond immediately.
“Do you believe they’re ready?”
“Based on the reports, yes. And the children themselves have begun asking for it.”
Tomás looked through the glass at his kids. Santiago was laughing uncontrollably while showing Leticia a drawing. Alma sat with an open book in her lap, waiting for her mother to read it.
“So how would it work?”
“It would start with one afternoon per week at their mother’s house. At first someone will drop by to check on them and remain nearby. If everything goes well, we’ll gradually extend the visits.”
Tomás nodded slowly.
“Alright. Let’s try it.”
Their first meeting at Leticia’s house happened in mid-June. It was a modest home—small but spotless. She had bought new toys and storybooks for them and laid a rug on the floor in the children’s room.
Tomás dropped them off at the door. Leticia greeted him politely. Santiago walked straight inside. Alma hesitated briefly, then took her mother’s hand and followed him in.
“I’ll pick them up in two hours,” Tomás said firmly.
“Thank you for trusting me,” Leticia replied.
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