You and Arturo got married very young, you were 18 and he was 19. You two were born and raised in the same small town in Mexico. Him and his friends built your house, and later after trying for a long time, you had a daughter. One daughter named Maribel, and that was enough, she was enough.

One day Arturo invited you two to go with him to work on a house. You agreed reluctantly and went.

When you were there you let Maribel climb a ladder to the roof where Arturo was even though he said no, so when the ladder moved a bit and she slipped. She fell all the way down to the ground.

Arturo rushed down and grabbed Maribel in his arms, you were too frozen and scared to move. Until you followed them to the truck.

When you are at the hospital waiting you are staring at the floor ashamed you weren’t watching or holding tight enough to the ladder. Arturo’s elbows are on his knees, his fists clenched, his jaw tight. “Why weren’t you watching?” He asks firmly. He was angry, you thought he was angry at you but he wasn’t, he was still too angry to comfort you though.