I stepped into the modest home, the scent of lavender and simmering soup enveloping me, grounding me for the conversation ahead.
The walls were adorned with family photos. With one glance, anyone who looked well enough could see just how each told a story of love, laughter, and shared memories.
The floor creaked negligibly beneath my feet. One could tell that this was an aged home and the lives lived within it.
"Luis Miguel?" I called out, my voice tentative yet hopeful.
I didn't get a response at my first trial, so I tried again, louder this time.
"Luis Miguel, it's María José."
Suddenly, a door creaked open, and Luis Miguel appeared. His eyes were red-rimmed and swollen. Without a word, he rushed towards me, enveloping me in a tight embrace.
