Chapter 13 - THE HOUSE WITH THE YELLOW DOOR
Paloma moved into her new home on a warm Saturday morning.
It wasn't large.
Three bedrooms.
A narrow kitchen.
A small backyard.
The paint was imperfect.
The floors creaked.
The front door was yellow.
Paloma loved every inch.
She stood in the empty living room while Gustavo and Rafael carried boxes inside.
"This one's heavy."
Gustavo complained.
Paloma crossed her arms.
"You're the millionaire."
"Exactly."
"I usually pay people for this."
"Today you're free labor."
Rafael laughed.
By sunset, the cribs were assembled.
The refrigerator was full.
Four stuffed animals sat in a row.
Paloma walked through the rooms after everyone left.
For months, she had dreamed about safety.
Now safety had an address.
Rafael didn't live there.
Not yet.
That was Paloma's decision.
He respected it.
He rented a small apartment ten minutes away.
Every morning before work, he came over.
Every evening, he returned.
Three months later, Paloma gave him a key.
Nothing more.
Rafael understood what it meant.
One night, after the babies were asleep, they sat on the porch.
"I hated you."
Paloma said.
"I know."
"Sometimes I still do."
"I know."
"I also understand why you were afraid."
Rafael looked at her.
"But understanding isn't the same as excusing."
"I know."
She smiled slightly.
"You say that a lot now."
"I've learned it's safer."
Paloma laughed.
Then she reached into her pocket.
Rafael's wedding ring.
His smile disappeared.
She held it out.
"I'm not promising everything goes back to normal."
"I don't want normal."
"I'm promising we can try again."
Rafael's eyes filled.
"Slowly."
"However slowly you want."
She placed the ring in his palm.
He didn't put it on.
"Will you?"
He asked.
Paloma understood.
She took the ring.
Then slid it onto his finger.
Rafael cried.
Paloma did too.
Inside, one of the babies started screaming.
Then another.
Then all four.
Paloma laughed.
"Romance is over."
Rafael stood.
"Four diapers?"
"Probably."
They went inside together.
Not healed.
Not perfect.
May you like
But together.
And sometimes that was more meaningful than pretending nothing had ever broken.
