They came in talking all at once, the children running excitedly down the hallway. Laura scanned the space with that silent, evaluative expression that had always made me uncomfortable.
But when they turned left—where the large living room with ocean views used to be—they froze completely.
The wall separating the living room from the master bedroom was gone. So was the suite I’d created with such care.
In its place was an open space with six single beds perfectly aligned. Identical nightstands stood beside each one, with reading lamps fixed to the wall.
Everything was white, functional, with absolutely no trace of personal decoration or warmth.
“What is this?” Laura asked, her frown deepening.
“The bedrooms,” I replied calmly. “I thought that since so many of you were coming, it would be best to organize the space practically. That way, everyone has a bed.”
Álvaro looked at me with confusion spreading across his face.
Showing Them My New Room
“But… where’s your room?” he asked.
I pointed toward the end of the hallway without changing my calm expression.
“There. The small one.”
The same one he had assigned to me over the phone without a second thought.
We walked down to it together. There was a simple bed, an old dresser I’d pulled from storage, and a small window facing the inner patio.
Exactly as he had described when he told me where I could stay in my own house.
“Mom, you didn’t have to—” he started.
I interrupted him gently but firmly.
“Of course I did. You said what mattered was that you all were comfortable. I can adapt anywhere, remember?”
No one answered. Laura’s parents exchanged an awkward glance, clearly sensing the tension but not understanding its source.
The children, unaware of what was happening, asked where they could leave their backpacks.
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