"How do you really feel about her?" Carlos asked, his voice steady but heavy with anticipation. "I want your honest thoughts. Do not soften your words for my sake—I can endure the truth."
Isabella remained silent for a mont, her gaze fixed on the steam rising from her cup.
"In truth... I do not hate her," she began softly. "The venom in my words after the attack... it was born in the mont."
She paused.
"If she had not co to our estate seeking your protection, you wouldn’t have been wounded. I blad her for the blood on your sleeve."
Her voice softened further.
"But later, I understood. If you hadn’t chosen to protect her, she would have died. Her sons would be orphans."
She looked up at him.
"You taught that if we have the power to help soone, we must extend a hand."
Carlos raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised.
He had expected resentnt—perhaps even anger, or tears. Maybe even a complaint about her late mother.
Instead, he found sothing far more complex.
"If that is the case," Carlos said carefully, "then why are you so cold toward her? Alia tells that whenever you are in the sa room, your entire deanor changes."
He studied her expression.
"You go from lively and bright... to a pillar of ice."
Isabella hesitated, her fingers tracing the edge of her saucer.
"It is... awkwardness, Father," she admitted. "I know I was unjust, but I lack the courage to apologize as I should. So instead... I freeze."
She exhaled slowly.
"And truthfully..."
She lifted her gaze again, a flicker of fire returning to her eyes.
"There is still a splinter of resentnt."
Her voice hardened just slightly.
"I understand it was not her fault. She was a desperate mother."
She paused.
"But the truth remains... her shadow brought danger to our door."
Carlos held her gaze.
He could see the internal struggle clearly.
Isabella was intelligent enough to understand the logic of the situation—but her heart had not fully followed.
She knew she was wrong in principle.
But her love for him made it impossible to completely let go of that fear... that anger.
"You must understand sothing, Isabella," Carlos said gently.
"Your mother was also a victim of human tragedy."
His tone softened, carrying a rare vulnerability.
"When my father saved her, he was not acting out of pure kindness. There were darker intentions behind it."
He looked down briefly.
"But the truth remains—he saved her."
Carlos’s eyes returned to Isabella.
"If he had not found her and her mother while they were fleeing famine... if he had chosen to ignore them..."
His voice lowered.
"I would have lost the greatest treasures of my life."
"You... and your brother."
He paused, letting the words settle.
"It was that strange twist of fate—my father, even driven by his own interests, choosing to save a family—that shaped the man I beca."
Carlos leaned back slightly.
"That family gave a place in this world. It taught that helping others is not just an act of kindness—it is an investnt in the future."
He gave a faint, bittersweet smile.
"The person you save today may one day give life, safety, or purpose to soone else."
His expression grew more serious.
"I know the risks. And I admit... I may have been careless when I brought Alia into our lives."
He sighed.
"But just as you cannot forget your resentnt... I cannot abandon my duty to those in danger."
For a mont, his eyes drifted to the empty seat beside them.
As if soone were sitting there.
"And Alia..." he added quietly, "in a strange turn of fate... she has helped revive a part of that died when your mother passed away."
At the ntion of her mother, Isabella fell silent.
For a mont, the noise of the tavern seed distant.
Then she hesitated.
"May I ask sothing?" she said softly.
Carlos nodded.
"What was she really like?"
Isabella looked down briefly before continuing.
"You and Francisco always tell wonderful things about her. She sounds... perfect."
Her voice trembled slightly.
"Almost like a saint."
She lifted her eyes again.
"But that hurts in a way."
Carlos frowned slightly, listening closely.
"You both knew her as a real person—with flaws, with struggles," Isabella said. "But I never did."
Her voice beca quieter.
"To ... she feels untouchable. Perfect."
She swallowed.
"And I don’t know how to love soone who feels... impossible to reach."
Carlos fell silent for a mont, deep in thought.
Perhaps, he realized, speaking only of her virtues had been a mistake.
It was not that he could speak ill of her—he never could. She had given her life bringing Isabella into the world. To criticize her would feel like an act of ingratitude.
But perhaps... perfection was the problem.
Then sothing ca to his mind.
He looked at Isabella and spoke again.
"She was stubborn," he said softly. "Very stubborn... a little like you."
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"And like ."
Isabella listened closely.
"When she was pregnant with you—about five or six months—she beca very weak. We called a doctor."
His expression darkened slightly at the mory.
"The doctor warned us that if she continued the pregnancy... she might die."
Isabella’s hands tightened slightly on the table.
"He even offered to give her ruda... to end the pregnancy."
Carlos paused.
"But she refused."
His voice softened.
"She said that the life inside her was more precious than anything else."
He looked down, his eyes distant.
"I was a ss back then. I stopped taking work far from Bogotá. We earned less money, but we were already stable—it did not matter."
He exhaled slowly.
"I just wanted to spend as much ti with her as I could."
A small, fragile smile appeared on his lips.
"In the end... she gave birth to you."
He looked at Isabella with warmth.
"A beautiful life."
His voice trembled slightly.
"And her last words..."
He paused, his throat tightening.
"...were asking to protect you. Because you were the last gift she could give ."
Tears began to slide down his cheeks.
For a mont, he said nothing.
Then, with a faint, bittersweet chuckle, he continued.
"She was also... a little spoiled in this household."
Isabella blinked in surprise.
"You may not have noticed," Carlos said, "but even though I am the head of the family... sotis your grandmother María has more authority than I do."
He smiled faintly.
"That is because of your mother."
His tone beca lighter.
"When she wanted sothing—or when she believed Francisco needed sothing—she would not stop until she got her way."
He shook his head, almost amused.
"She would scold endlessly until I found a solution."
Then he leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret.
"And there is sothing else..."
He smiled.
"This is sothing even the servants do not know."
Isabella leaned in, curious.
"She was terrible at cooking."
For a second, there was silence.
Then Isabella burst into laughter.
The image shattered completely—the perfect, untouchable figure replaced by soone real.
Soone human.
As Carlos continued sharing small stories, Isabella listened with shining eyes, laughing at tis and gently comforting him whenever his voice faltered.
anwhile, behind the counter, the tavern owner stood frozen, holding a tray.
He had approached several tis, intending to serve the food—but each ti he hesitated.
Seeing a man like Carlos, strong and respected, crying openly while speaking of his wife... left him unsure of what to do.
Finally, his wife noticed him standing there awkwardly.
Rolling her eyes, she took the dishes from his hands.
Without hesitation, she walked toward their table.
"Sir, young lady," she said politely, her tone apologetic, "your food is ready. I am sorry to interrupt, but we must also attend to the other guests."
Carlos and Isabella looked up and nodded.
"My apologies," Carlos said. "We beca a little lost in our conversation."
He gave a small, grateful smile.
"And thank you for the al."
Isabella nodded as well.
After the woman left, father and daughter looked at each other.
For a mont, neither spoke.
Then they both let out a soft, knowing chuckle.
That afternoon, sothing long held tight between them finally loosened.
And in the quiet warmth of the tavern, the bond between father and daughter grew stronger than ever.
After their hearty al, Carlos walked to the counter and paid in pesos, leaving a little extra as a gratuity for the trouble.
Then, together, they stepped outside.
It was clear that sothing between them had changed.
As they walked through the streets, watching people pass by from one side to the other, both carried a new lightness in their hearts.
They smiled more easily.
"Now," Carlos said after a mont, "I need to go see the river."
He glanced at Isabella.
"Do you want to co with ? This is... an important matter."
Isabella nodded without hesitation.
"I do," she said. "I always see you buried in docunts, worrying about things I don’t fully understand."
She looked ahead, thoughtful.
"Maybe if I see it with you... I can begin to understand what you really do."
Carlos smiled faintly.
"Then co."
Together, they walked toward the river.
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