Hammya woke up in her bed, feeling the warm daylight filtering through the window and gently brushing her face. As she opened her eyes, the sky came into view: a radiant sun accompanied by a few white and gray clouds dancing on the horizon. Yet, something felt off. She realized she could only see with one eye, and a sharp pain began to spread through her body, especially in her ribs and chest—sensations she had never experienced before.


    Suddenly, a memory surged within her, and anxiety shook her to the core. She had to know what had happened to him.


    “Candado! CAN—!” she shouted, her voice breaking with fear.


    “I’m here,” a cold, sharp voice responded from somewhere nearby.


    Hammya turned her head toward the sound and saw him: there he was, sitting with a book in his hands, wearing the same composed demeanor that always defined him.


    “There’s no need to shout,” he said indifferently, standing up calmly and walking toward her.


    As he approached, Hammya froze. He bore no visible wounds, as if nothing had happened. He wore a crisp white shirt paired with an elegant red tie, a flawless black vest, white gloves, fitted dark trousers, and shoes that perfectly complemented the ensemble.


    “Candado?” she asked in a faint voice.


    The boy scratched his cheek with his index finger, glancing to the side.


    “Do I look like someone else?”


    Before she could answer, Hammya leapt out of bed and embraced him so tightly that he lost his balance, falling to the floor.


    “You’re okay!” she exclaimed with relief.


    “Forget about me and worry about yourself. You’ve been asleep for two days,” he replied, trying to get back on his feet.


    But Hammya paid no attention to his words, holding him as if she never intended to let go.


    “Hey, I’m fine now. I just went through a dumb phase,” he said, attempting to lighten the situation.


    Carefully, Candado picked her up and set her back on the bed. Then he noticed a green stain on his glove.


    “Looks like you reopened your wound. I’ll need to change your bandage,” he said seriously.


    He walked over to a nearby desk and pulled a first aid kit from one of the drawers.


    “Where am I?” Hammya asked, still disoriented.


    “You’re in your room,” he replied as he prepared the materials.


    “What happened to the others?”


    “They’re at home. It’s 9:05 in the morning, so they’re probably still asleep. They’ll come by at noon to check on you,” he explained calmly.


    “My hair is green again,” Hammya muttered, a hint of confusion in her voice.


    “It’ll turn red again,” he assured her with certainty.


    Hammya couldn’t help but laugh softly at his nonchalant reply.


    “Did you sleep?” she asked suddenly.


    “Yes. Clementina and my mother forced me to rest. They didn’t take their eyes off me... after what I tried to do,” he admitted, his voice carrying a mix of regret and honesty.


    Concern clouded Hammya’s face as he pulled out alcohol and cotton from the kit.


    “And now?” she asked.


    “I had to tell them everything—absolutely everything—from why I did it to why I wanted it all to end,” he replied gravely.


    Hammya remained still, watching him closely.


    “What happened?”


    “They hugged me. All of them, in fact. No one got mad, no one lashed out. Though my mother… she did hit me,” he said, sadness evident in his tone as he began to remove the bandage from her wound.


    “Would you mind looking up?” he requested.


    Hammya obeyed, directing her gaze to the ceiling and wincing involuntarily as the scab tore away from her skin.


    “Well,” she murmured.


    “How does it look?” Hammya asked.


    “You’re lucky the blade didn’t damage your bones. You only suffered a tear in the flesh and muscle. No stitches were needed because the blade was so fine,” he explained with professional precision.


    “Lucky me,” she quipped sarcastically.


    Candado dampened a cloth with water and gently began to clean the wound.


    “What you did that day was incredibly reckless. You could’ve lost your hand—or died,” he said while working.


    “Heh, that wasn’t possible. No one could’ve died in that, not to mention if I hadn’t done it, you could’ve died,” Hammya replied seriously.


    “But you could’ve lost your hand.”


    “But I wouldn’t have lost you,” she answered with a smile.


    “…”


    Candado applied alcohol to the wound, and Hammya couldn’t suppress a pained cry.


    “Ah! It stings!” she exclaimed.


    “Don’t look down,” he said calmly.


    “Fine, fine, I won’t,” she replied, pouting.


    With care, he continued tending to her wound.


    “Are you okay?” she asked softly.


    “Of course I am,” he replied indifferently.


    “I don’t mean physically—I mean the other thing,” she insisted.


    “I’ll survive,” he said firmly.


    Once he finished, he carefully bandaged her wound.


    “Why did you do it?” he asked suddenly.


    Hammya lowered her head, but he urged her to look at him again.


    “No! Don’t lower your head,” he said firmly.


    She complied, returning her gaze to the ceiling.


    “Because you would’ve died, Candado, and I didn’t want that. I didn’t want you to die. Gabriela would’ve been furious if she knew she died for nothing,” she whispered, her voice heavy with emotion.


    “I’m not talking about Gabriela—I’m talking about you,” he replied, his voice trembling.


    Candado finished bandaging her and looked at her with sorrow.


    “I already said it—because I didn’t want you to die,” she added firmly.


    “But why did you do it?” he asked again, doubt lacing his tone.


    “Why? There’s no why. Let me answer your question with one of my own: would you have done the same?”


    “Yes, I would,” he replied without hesitation.


    “Well, there you go. So would I,” Hammya said, a mix of defiance and relief in her tone.


    Silence fell between them, broken only by the distant hum of sunlight streaming through the window.


    Candado finished bandaging the wound, placed the supplies back in the box, and set it aside, only to take her injured hand in his.


    “You knew it would hurt a lot, yet you still did it,” he said, staring at and gently caressing the bandaged palm of her hand.


    “Of course, I did. And I knew it would hurt, I think. Actually, it hurt a lot,” Hammya replied softly. Then, slowly, she lowered her head until her forehead rested against his.


    “But this pain is nothing compared to the pain I would feel if you had died.”


    Candado''s eyes tightened, and the tears he had been struggling to hold back began to flow, sliding down his cheeks and dripping onto her bandaged hand. Hammya noticed, and with tenderness, she began to stroke his back with her free hand.


    “I’m sorry,” Candado murmured, fighting not to break down completely. “I’m so sorry.”


    Hammya smiled, slid off the bed, and hugged him tightly.


    “Shhh, shhh, shhh, it’s okay.”


    “I’m sorry about your hand.”


    “It’s nothing.”


    “I’m sorry about your eye.”


    “It wasn’t your fault. It’ll heal.”


    “I’m sorry for everything I’ve done to you.”


    “There’s nothing to apologize for. You’ve never done anything wrong to me.”


    “I’m sorry for hurting you.”


    Hammya embraced him even more tightly, sensing how fragile and vulnerable he was in that moment.


    "Someday, I’ll tell you what I keep in my heart," she thought.


    She removed his beret and, while he continued crying, kissed his forehead, calming the emotional storm raging inside him just a little.


    Caught up in this moment of love and solace, Hammya completely forgot about her surroundings until a familiar voice snapped her out of her thoughts.


    “Uh, Hammya,” said Europa, her tone filled with confusion.


    Hammya flinched and pulled away from Candado, quickly retreating to the bed as though the sound had startled her. She turned toward the voice, finding Europa staring directly at her.


    “Hi,” Hammya said, her nerves unmistakable.


    In that instant, she sensed a tense hostility in the air, something that made her instinctively let go of Candado and withdraw further.


    “Mom, I was going to tell you, but...” Candado began, turning to face his mother.


    “I can see that, son,” Europa replied, her expression serious.


    “Your voice sounds hostile. Is something wrong?” he asked.


    Europa stepped closer to Hammya, sat down beside her on the bed, and looked at her directly. Then she turned to her son, noticing the tears still glistening in his eyes. She wiped one away with her thumb, smiling sweetly as she spoke.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    “Breakfast is ready. Go downstairs, please.”


    “Okay,” he replied, a hint of embarrassment in his tone that Hammya caught immediately.


    The door closed behind Candado, leaving the two women alone in the room. Europa sighed and smiled gently at Hammya.


    “I’m glad to see you’re alright.”


    “Like this?” Hammya asked hesitantly.


    “Sorry about that. I’m not used to seeing Candado being hugged by anyone other than Gabriela.”


    “I see,” Hammya replied.


    Europa embraced her, a gesture so maternal that it felt as if she were caring for Hammya as though she were her own daughter. Resting her cheek on Hammya’s head, she whispered:


    “Thank you.”


    “Thank you?” Hammya echoed, confused.


    “If you hadn’t seen it, if you hadn’t stopped him…” Europa tightened her embrace, her voice trembling as she tried to hold back tears. “I would probably have buried another child… The thought terrifies me. What if no one had seen him? What if no one had stopped him in time? The fear of it consumes me. But when I saw you holding him, all that fear vanished.”


    Hammya smiled and gently stroked her back.


    “I love your son,” she said softly.


    Europa hesitated for a moment but eventually calmed herself.


    "I know. I’ve known since that time."


    "That time?" Hammya asked, her voice a mixture of nervousness and curiosity.


    "Do you think I didn’t see? Do you think I don’t know you kissed him on the cheek during the picnic?"


    Hammya didn’t respond immediately, a nervous tension building in her posture.


    "Well, I’m glad you told me and all," Europa continued, her tone gaining a slight edge, "but don’t you think you’re both too young for that?"


    Hammya frowned, her expression firming.


    "I don’t think you’re the right person to lecture me about that," she replied with surprising boldness.


    Europa choked slightly on her own breath, caught off guard.


    "Ahem… That’s… different," she managed to say.


    "How is it different?" Hammya pressed, her tone steady and unrelenting.


    "..." Europa faltered, clearly searching for an answer.


    "I’m waiting," Hammya said, fixing her with a pointed gaze.


    Europa wasn’t intimidated by her defiance. Instead, she met Hammya’s stare with an even fiercer intensity.


    "You two really are mother and son," Hammya remarked calmly.


    "What gave you any reason to doubt it?" Europa shot back defensively.


    "Nothing. Just saying," Hammya replied, her expression softening as she shrugged.


    She gave Europa a friendly pat on the back and smiled.


    "I’m not burning any bridges here, so relax."


    Before their conversation could continue, a bright light streamed through the window, signaling the arrival of Amabaray.


    "Oh, there you are," Hammya said with a hint of relief.


    "Hello, J?n," Amabaray greeted her before turning to Europa. "Hello, little one. How are you feeling?"


    Hammya touched her bandaged eye and smiled timidly.


    "More or less okay," she answered softly.


    Amabaray smiled warmly and patted her head with gentle affection.


    "By the way, have you seen Tínbari? I’ve been looking for him all morning."


    Hammya and Europa exchanged knowing glances, sharing a mischievous smile that made Amabaray furrow his brow in confusion.


    "I don’t get it," Hammya said, her brow raised in curiosity at their silent exchange.


    "It’s nothing like what you’re imagining," Amabaray retorted, clearly flustered.


    Realizing what was happening, Hammya joined Europa in a shared smirk, adding fuel to the playful teasing.


    "But…"


    "...We didn’t say anything," Europa concluded with mock innocence.


    Amabaray, unable to maintain a serious demeanor, turned red under their scrutinizing gazes.


    "I’m leaving!" he blurted, hastily retreating from the room.


    Europa and Hammya burst into laughter at his embarrassed reaction. But the laughter subsided as Hammya winced, clutching her injured hand.


    "Does it still hurt?" Europa asked with genuine concern.


    "A little."


    "I was surprised you have green blood."


    "Well, the truth is…"


    "You don’t have to tell me now," Europa interrupted gently. "It’s fine. I don’t like prying into other people’s secrets. When you’re ready, you can tell me."


    "Alright."


    Europa stood, her departure marked with a kind smile and a casual wave before she left the room.


    Left alone, Hammya glanced around, her thoughts adrift.


    "What do I do now?" she muttered to herself, feeling slightly lost.


    She had no better idea than to lie on the bed and stare at the ceiling. As she gazed into the emptiness above, memories of everything that had happened in this world began to surface. As she replayed those events in her mind, a wave of tension overwhelmed her. She realized how much her personality had shifted. She had become cold and calculating, all for the sake of saving Candado. The vivid sensation of holding him in her arms mere moments before still lingered in her mind.


    What have I done?! she thought, alarmed.


    She grabbed a pillow and buried her face in it, kicking her feet into the air as if pedaling an invisible bike. After several long seconds of this “pedaling,” she let the pillow fall away and resumed staring at the ceiling.


    “Some habits never change,” she muttered softly to herself.


    Meanwhile, Europa descended the stairs, lost in thought. Her conversation with Hammya replayed in her mind, particularly what the girl had revealed about her feelings for her son. Surprisingly, the revelation stirred a strange happiness in Europa. It reminded her of the day Gabriela had her first boyfriend. Back then, Europa had learned of it through a surveillance device she had secretly installed while her daughter slept, a precaution to shield her from potential harm.


    Though the method was invasive, it had worked—albeit not without consequences. Before resorting to that measure, she had directly questioned Clementina about her romantic affairs, but the android had lied. As punishment, Europa had implemented a verbal and behavioral system that forced Clementina to always tell the truth about family-related matters. What she hadn’t realized at the time was that implementing such systems without proper protocols risked erasing memories from the subject’s mind. This was how Clementina had lost all recollection of her origins—a truth she hadn’t pieced together until much later.


    Now in the kitchen, Europa glanced out the window as she prepared something. Outside, she spotted Candado sitting under a tree, eating alone. A bittersweet smile crossed her lips. She knew her son was worried and was avoiding her, mistakenly believing that she hated him.


    Taking a deep breath, Europa closed her eyes, gathered her resolve, and stepped outside to join him. The creak of the door startled Candado. He looked up quickly, his gaze darting around nervously, as if searching for an escape route. Before he could act, Europa smiled and approached him.


    Candado instinctively braced himself, but it was too late. Europa reached him, scooped him up from under his arms, and hoisted him into the air with a burst of laughter.


    “And where do you think you’re going?” she teased, pulling him into a tight hug that left his feet dangling off the ground.


    “I was… uh…” Candado hesitated, knowing he couldn’t lie.


    “Hmm?”


    “I wanted to… leave,” he admitted reluctantly.


    Europa smiled, her expression softening. “Where to?”


    “I was going to…” He trailed off as she hugged him again, this time taking off his beret to keep him from overheating. He squirmed in protest.


    “Oops, my bad.”


    “I could’ve done that myself.”


    “I know, but you wouldn’t have,” she replied, lying back on the grass while still holding him tightly, like a cherished teddy bear.


    “You’re going to mess up my hair.”


    “Sometimes you act like such a little girl,” she teased with a grin.


    Though Candado continued to struggle, he couldn’t stop a small smile from creeping onto his face. Trapped between his mother’s warmth and affection, resistance seemed futile.


    “Well, guess what—I like when everything’s in order.”


    He definitely gets that from me, Europa thought with a chuckle.


    Candado finally stopped struggling when Europa sighed in relief, a sound he immediately recognized as a sign of her happiness.


    “I remember when I was teaching you how to walk,” she said, her voice tinged with nostalgia. “You refused to stand on your own, but the moment I stretched out my arms like I was going to hug you, you’d get up and run toward me with everything you had.”


    “I don’t remember that.”


    “Of course not, you idiot!” she laughed. “You were only a year old. The country was falling apart—chaos and destruction everywhere—but we always found reasons to smile. Even when my beloved Argentina was being devoured by the incompetence of its president, we managed to get by.”


    “2001,” Candado said, “the year Argentina went up in flames due to a lack of social policies.”


    Europa leaned back under the shade of a tree, resting Candado’s back against her chest.


    “You were very lucky.”


    “Why?”


    “I was born in 1976, just months before the military coup. I grew up watching my country fall into ruin. I never knew democracy as you do. But when I heard my parents talk about it—about how the country used to be—I couldn’t believe it. That was Argentina? I wanted to see it for myself. My childhood was filled with the arrival of dictators, the misery they brought, the fear in people’s eyes, and the disappearance of those who simply vanished before my very eyes.”


    “And then democracy arrived, didn’t it?”


    “Yes,” she nodded. “I remember seeing a man standing on the balcony of the Casa Rosada, talking about democracy. My parents were crying—not because they missed the past, but because a dream had finally come true. But democracy wasn’t what I imagined. Hunger didn’t vanish. The same bleak landscape remained: a president chosen by the people, weak and ousted. Then came Carlos Saúl Menem, a Peronist who handed over national industries to foreign interests…”


    “Sorry to interrupt your oversimplified historical narrative, but… what does any of this have to do with me?” Candado interjected.


    Europa took a deep breath and continued:


    "I felt the same way. I felt guilty, Candado. Guilty that my country was in such a state, that everything was lost. If only I had been born earlier, maybe my vote could have changed history and spared my eyes from witnessing such misery. But I realized that wasn’t possible."


    "What are you trying to tell me? Sorry, but I think there’s a huge difference between your story and mine."


    "History is a process, Candado. Even if there were a time machine to take you back to 1955 to warn President Perón about the bombing of the Casa Rosada, nothing guarantees that history would have changed. Other factors would have intervened. The Church might have used the power of its symbols to declare him the devil, inciting a mob with the help of those who followed their faith. Businesses could have found ways to sabotage him, raising prices to starve the people and blame him for their suffering. No matter how hard you tried, the outcome would likely be the same: Perón’s overthrow."


    Candado remained silent.


    "It’s different… so different," he finally whispered.


    "Candado, blaming yourself for your sister’s death is nonsense. You were only five years old when it happened. At that age, you were just a cheerful, playful child. It’s not your fault, it never was. If you had taken Odadnac’s hand when he offered it to you, you might have died, or you could have succumbed to anger. But anger is not strength, Candado. It’s weakness."


    "Weakness?"


    "Yes. If you had taken his hand, you might have gained power, but you would have died. You were too young to handle something like that. The stress and anguish would have destroyed you. And even if you had survived, you wouldn’t have known how to fight and would have died anyway."


    "But at least Gabriela would be here…"


    Europa hugged her son tighter, pressing her cheek against his.


    "I’ve gone through bad things too, my sun. I lost five of my closest friends, one of them as dear to me as Yara is to you. I was betrayed by the guild I admired the most: the GreenBlood. I lost my position in O.M.G.A.B. I lost Amabaray, I lost my daughter… And today, I almost lost you over an absurd reason: blaming yourself for something that wasn’t your responsibility."


    As she held him tightly, her voice was calm and steady. Candado kept his face hidden, silently crying. His expression was cold and emotionless, but nothing could conceal the peace he felt at that moment.


    "How is it possible…" he murmured, his voice broken, smiling through his tears. "How is it possible that after everything, I feel so sentimental with the two of you? I don’t understand…"


    Europa smiled and kissed his cheek.


    "Even if you say you’re a terrible person, I’ll always be by your side. When you cry, lean on me. When you need help, just ask. Because after all, I’m your mother, and it’s my duty to care for you, pamper you, hold you, and above all, love you. I regret distancing myself from you, but I promise I’ll never leave you alone again. Never."


    Candado removed his hand from his eyes and quickly turned his face to bury it in his mother’s chest.


    "Is it okay if I do it now?" he asked.


    "You don’t have to ask me that."


    Europa placed her right hand on her son’s head and softly patted his back with her left as she listened to his sobs.


    "You don’t need to hold back, Candado. Let out everything you’re hiding in your heart."


    Despite his pain, the boy complied with his mother’s request. No one but Europa heard his sobs.


    As he cried, she hummed a gentle lullaby, an ancient song she had shared with him many times. And though his tears did not cease, peace began to flow into his heart once more, carried by the melody that danced between them.


    "Moon of Dreams, lantern above,


    Guide the child through soft bells of love.


    A deep desire takes its flight,


    Yearning for love in the earthly night.


    He loved the Moon, begged her to descend,


    And at her glow, his heart would bend.


    His love was pure, like a river’s song,


    The Moon heard him, embraced him strong.


    The Moon in the sky kept her vow, it’s true,


    To grant the wish of a family new.


    She held his hand, kissed him with light,


    Bells sang softly in the night.


    The stars above cradled them tight.


    Ring, oh ring, oh bell of love,


    Dance through the night, beneath stars above.


    Sing for the wind, and whistle for the sea,


    Clap for the Moon, her gaze so free.


    But the heart cannot wait, it longs to embrace,


    To kiss her glow, to feel her grace.


    Its greatest wish, its ultimate call,


    For the Moon once more to the Earth would fall.


    Her smile to the child brought a bloom of spring,


    She took his hand, together they''d sing.


    Their souls entwined, to the heavens they soared,


    As he turned to the Sun, their love restored.


    In blazing light, their bond would show,


    Their eternal love, in astral glow.


    The bells resound, singing their flame,


    The endless love of the Sun and the Moon.


    The bells resound, echoing their name,


    The timeless union of the Sun and the Moon.


    The bells resound, dancing in tune,


    The eternal love of the Sun and the Moon."


    Europa watched Candado tenderly as he rested against her chest. His breathing was deep and steady, yet the faint traces of tears still lingered on his cheeks. She gently ran her hand through his hair, her smile radiating pure love, and whispered softly:


    "Rest, my son."


    The crunch of dry leaves broke the quiet moment. Europa lifted her gaze and saw Arturo approaching carefully.


    "Luna del cielo..." he murmured, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "It''s a song I sang to you a long time ago."


    Europa looked at him, surprised, but said nothing. Arturo sat beside her, settling close as though the years hadn’t worn away the bond they once shared.


    "I think I’ve fallen in love with you again," he said suddenly, his voice carrying a gentle sincerity as he smiled softly.


    Europa responded with a warm, serene smile of her own as she continued to stroke Candado’s hair. Arturo’s eyes drifted to the boy’s face, observing him quietly for a few moments. There was something about the way Candado slept, the stillness of his expression, that filled him with an unusual sense of peace.


    Carefully, Arturo reached out, brushing away the tears still clinging to Candado’s face.


    "No matter how much he’s grown, he’s still just a child," Arturo remarked with a tender, melancholic tone as he let his hand rest gently on Candado’s head. "To me, he’ll always be my son."


    Europa nodded, her gaze returning to the boy, who seemed to sink further into her embrace.


    "Look at him," she said with a sigh filled with affection. "He seems happy."


    Arturo smiled as well.


    "Yes... he’s sleeping so peacefully."


    The two of them remained silent, watching Candado’s serene breathing as though the whole world had momentarily stilled in harmony. A gentle breeze carried the faint scent of damp earth and dry leaves, wrapping the scene in quiet tranquility. Europa began to hum the lullaby she had sung so many times before, and after a moment, Arturo joined her, his deep, warm voice harmonizing with hers.


    It was a simple moment, yet brimming with meaning: a mother, a father, and their son sharing a peace born in the aftermath of chaos. Though their past was riddled with scars, the present moment was all that mattered—the bond that united them.


    In the distance, Clementina observed the scene with a soft smile.


    "Rest well, young master," she whispered.