Laura M\u00e9ndez\u2019s suitcase hit the stone floor with a dull thud, as though it, too, had finally given up. The sound echoed down the long corridor of the hacienda, blending with the words that still rang painfully in her ears.\u201cWe no longer require your services.\u201dSantiago Mendoza had said it without lifting his eyes from the papers on his desk.Three years.Three birthdays filled with balloons and cake.Three winters of fevers, cough syrup, and sleepless nights.Three storms where Sof\u00eda only fell asleep if Laura\u2019s hand was wrapped tightly around hers, as if letting go meant disappearing.And now Laura stood there, a half-packed suitcase at her feet, her chest tight, her dignity stretched to its breaking point.She didn\u2019t cry in his office. She refused to beg.She cried later\u2014in the small staff bathroom\u2014silent, controlled, her palm pressed hard against her mouth so no sound escaped. She packed what mattered: clothes, a children\u2019s book filled with sticky notes, a faded photograph of her mother. She paused when she saw the hairbrush Sof\u00eda used on her favorite doll.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThat belongs to her,\u201d Laura thought. \u201cI don\u2019t anymore.\u201dOutside, the San Miguel de Allende sunset washed the terracotta walls in muted gold. Don Ram\u00f3n, the driver, opened the car door and looked at her with eyes full of words he didn\u2019t dare say. Only one slipped out, barely audible.It isn\u2019t right, Miss Laura.\u201dhe nodded, lips pressed together, and climbed inside. She didn\u2019t look back. If she did, she knew she\u2019d run straight back to Sof\u00eda\u2014and being dismissed so coldly, like a clerical error, made that unbearable.As the car pulled away, Laura rested her forehead against the cold window and remembered the beginning.Sof\u00eda had been two years old then, crying as if the world had ended. The previous nanny had failed. Laura\u2014fresh out of school and shaking inside\u2014sat on the bedroom floor with a coloring book and invented ridiculous voices: a dramatic dragon who spoke like a soap opera star, a butterfly that sang old ranchera songs. Sof\u00eda stopped crying, stared at her with huge green eyes, and reached out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
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