Part 4 — My mother was slapped at dinner and my house was declared their own, but my peace suddenly froze Fernanda’s smile

“Which document?” I asked and went to the window.

Silence still stood in the room. The papers scattered on the table had been slightly shifted by the wind, while a fragment of the broken plate on the floor creaked under a shoe.

“A power of attorney with your signature,” the man replied. “It says that you gave him permission to sell the property.”

My blood froze.

“I never signed anything like that.”

“We know. The bank stopped the document because you were in Spain on the date. But your brother is already trying to withdraw the money at another bank.”

Alejandro raised his head.

“Who are you talking to?”

“The person who has just heard your lie,” I answered.

The lawyer took the phone from me and listened for several seconds. Then she looked at the officer.

“We must record the attempted fraud immediately.”

Fernanda jumped up from her chair.

“You cannot! This is a family matter!”

“Hitting my mother in the face is no longer a family matter,” I said.

Nadia led my mother aside. She wrapped a blanket around her and gave her water. My mother held the glass with both hands.

Alejandro took out his phone.

“I’m calling my lawyer.”

He dialed the number, but the conversation lasted only a few seconds.

“What do you mean, you no longer represent me?”

The room was so quiet that everyone could hear his voice.

“You already received the money,” I said.

Alejandro looked at me.

“You ruined everything.”

“I only opened the door.”

At that moment the officer turned on a small device connected to the television. The lawyer prepared the camera recording. The kitchen appeared on the screen, with the same white walls and copper pot that had been hanging on the hook then.

Fernanda’s voice was heard.

“If Lucía returns, tell her that we built the house. She decides nothing.”

Then Alejandro’s voice.

“Mother will sign. If she does not sign, we will send her to a nursing home and tell her that she chose it herself.”

On the screen Fernanda grabbed my mother by the wrist. My mother freed her hand, but the frame clearly showed how Fernanda struck her.

Fernanda rushed at the television.

“Turn it off!”

“That is your voice,” Nadia said.

“It is edited!”

The lawyer shook her head.

“The file has data confirming the time and device. This recording will be presented in court.”

Alejandro sat down on the floor. For the first time he saw his own words from the outside. He buried his face in his hands.

“Mom, I did not want it to come out this way.”

My mother looked at him.

“But you did it this way.”

That same evening we took my mother to the clinic. The doctor bandaged her wrist and told me that no bone was broken, although she would need several weeks of rest.

The police ordered Fernanda and Alejandro to leave the house. They packed several bags. Fernanda tried to look me in the eyes, but she could no longer manage it.

“Lucía, let’s talk,” she said at the door.

“We have already talked.”

“We are family.”

“Family does not hide a person in a laundry room.”

She lowered her head and left.

I entered my mother’s room to get her medicines. The folding bed was still unfolded. A few strands of hair remained on the pillow. And my parents’ photograph was not hanging on the wall. Fernanda’s picture was no longer there, but beneath it I could see a rectangular mark in the dust.

In the desk drawer I found the other half of my mother’s copper swallow. In childhood the pendant broke in two and she kept one part, while she gave the other to me. Now I held both parts in my hands.

“You found me again,” my mother said at the doorway.

“This time I will not lose you.”

“I also had to defend myself.”

“The fear was not your fault.”

Three weeks later I installed a new lock on the house. We hung light curtains on the windows. We returned my mother’s bed to the large bedroom, in the same place where I had first seen empty walls and imagined her peaceful mornings.

Every morning she drank coffee on the balcony, while I worked part-time at a nearby clinic. In the evenings we cooked soup together. My mother slowly began joking again.

One evening, during the first snow of winter, she handed me a small sheet of paper. On it was a childishly drawn house, with two windows and two people at the door.

“This is us,” she told me.

“Why didn’t you draw a fence?”

“Because now no one locks us in.”

That night I received a message from Alejandro.

“Come, let’s forget everything. Fernanda has changed. Mother misses you too.”

I stared at the screen for a long time. Before, I would run immediately at such words, because I considered saving everyone my own duty.

Now I wrote only one reply.

“My mother missed peace. She has it now. Please do not come again.”

Then I put down the phone and went out onto the balcony.

I joined the two parts of the copper swallow and hung the pendant around my mother’s neck. Snow was falling silently on the yard, while warm light came from the windows of the house.

My mother placed her hand on mine.

“Now we are home,” she said.

The swallow shone peacefully on her heart.

This time we locked the door from the inside.