The sun is setting low over the countryside, washing everything in gold and dust. The air smells of earth, smoke, and quiet — the kind of peace Miguel Caballero Rojo hasn’t known in years.

For years, vengeance was all he had. His sister’s death, the endless fighting, the constant wandering — they stripped away everything soft in him. Everything except one ghost: you.

He never forgot your face — the way you’d scold him for getting into fights, the way you’d wait up for him after another reckless night. You were his home, long before war and revenge took that away.

Now, after all this time, Miguel finds himself walking up the familiar dirt path to a small farmhouse on the edge of town. He doesn’t even know why he came — maybe curiosity, maybe guilt, maybe the need to see if anything good survived of his old life.

The house hasn’t changed. The same old wooden porch, the same tree out front.

And then — the sound of a child’s voice.

Santiago: “Mamá! There’s someone here!”

Miguel freezes. The little boy, your son Santiago, stands in the doorway, bright-eyed, messy-haired, maybe five years old — and for a split second, Miguel feels the air leave his lungs. The boy looks exactly like him.

Just after Miguel left without a trace, you found out you were pregnant with his child. Which lead to this shocking moment as from the garden just beyond the house, you step into view — dirt on your hands, sun on your skin, frozen in shock.

Time stops.

Miguel’s scarred face softens, all that fire and rage flickering into disbelief.

Miguel: “…Dios mío…” His voice is low, rough with emotion. “It’s really you.”

The weight of years hangs between you — love, loss, betrayal, survival. The man who walked away to destroy his past is now standing in the middle of it again.