Chapter 9: familia

The bed welcomed my body like something that had known me for years. Soft mattress, pale gray linens, a reading light that wasn’t too bright.

My left hand reached for the phone on the nightstand.

One new message from Dominic.

“You won’t believe this. They moved me to a private room. There’s a huge window and even a leather couch for guests. Gi, this place feels like a five-star hotel. I even got to choose my dinner. Is this the work of a certain someone I know?”

A smile tugged at my lips. But something also knocked gently inside my chest.

“I can work from bed now. Only feels like hell when the flare-ups hit. But hey, at least I look like a CEO.”

I knew how his autoimmune condition—lupus—could creep in like a thief at night, quietly attacking one organ at a time. Joints. Skin. Kidneys. Nervous system. It didn’t kill, but it eroded slowly. And Dominic, my second-oldest brother, was too damn stubborn to ever admit he was in pain.

I started typing a reply: “Glad you like the room. You do look like a CEO. A stubborn one who refuses to take his meds.”

Before I could even set the phone down, another message came through.

“You know I hate owing people. But if this room upgrade came from that gray-eyed man... then you're really playing with fire.”

I stared at the screen longer than I needed to until its screen black. And then ... the next vibration hit.

But then a name appeared I couldn’t ignore.

Mama.

Gianna Domingo.

I opened the message.

“Sweetheart, Dominic hasn’t answered my texts for two days. Do you know anything?”

I could hear her voice behind those words. Soft. Controlled. With a fragile edge. Like someone who’d gotten too used to being ignored, but still held on to hope.

I let out a sharp sigh and sat up. The blanket fell into my lap, and cold air kissed my skin. The comfort of the mattress evaporated instantly.

Dominic.

Stubborn, reckless Dominic.

My fingers flew across the screen, opening his last message.

“You still haven’t replied to Mom? Seriously, Dom?”

Before I could finish typing the rest, he responded.

“I don’t know what to say.”

My eyes narrowed. My fingers typed faster than my brain.

“You don’t have to say anything. Just text her. One sentence. ‘I’m okay, Mom.’ That won’t kill anyone.”

The screen stayed still. For a long time.

I tossed the phone onto the pillow and got out of bed, walking to the half-glass window, staring out at the sky layered in clouds and the dark treetops swaying in the evening wind.

Dominic had always been like that. Running. Shutting down. Holding everything inside until the people who loved him could only stare at a door he refused to open.

I tapped the glass with my index finger. Once. Twice.

He always answered me. But he still kept an entire world locked away. One I wasn’t allowed into.

Our whole family… started cracking when he left. When he said Papa’s name with a tone I’d never heard before. Cold, broken and he disappeared from our house in Mexico without a trace.

I was the only one he left an address for. The only one with access. And sometimes, that made me want to slap his face and hug him at the same time.

My phone buzzed again.

“Later.”

I bit my lip and typed, fast.

“Later could be too late, Dom. Mama just wants to know you’re still breathing. You can hate Papa forever if you want, but don’t make her pay the price for silence too.”

The burn crept behind my eyes. But I held it in. Not now. Not in this house. Not in this room that was too calm and too perfect for tears I hadn’t planned to cry.

The reply finally came.

“Okay. I’ll call her. Just… tell her not to bring up Papa.”

I sat back on the bed, my breath a little easier.

“No promises. But she misses you.”

I tossed the phone onto the nightstand.

I laid back down, pulling the blanket to my chest.

This room felt like a dream. But dreams couldn’t fix a broken family.

And tonight, the comfort I held onto… felt like a debt. A debt owed to the man sleeping somewhere in this house. A debt I intended to collect… someday.

I had just pulled the blanket up to my chin, hoping for a few hours of peace, when my phone buzzed again.

I closed my eyes, let out a sharp sigh, then clenched my jaw before finally reaching for the phone.

Mama.

And of course, she was calling. Not a voice note. Not a text. Calling.

I stared at the screen for a full five seconds, praying the ringtone would stop. But Gianna Domingo didn’t wait for the “right moment.” She was the moment.

With a slow, defeated swipe, I picked up.

“Ma.”

“Ay Dios mío, Gretta! You saw my message, right? Why hasn’t Dominic answered me? Is he alive? Does he still have blood in his body? Or is he trying out life as a ghost just to give his mother a heart attack at sixty?!”

I pulled the phone away from my ear, almost laughing. S he was talking so fast I wasn’t even sure she was breathing.

“He’s alive, Ma,” I said flatly, rubbing my temple with two fingers. “And no, he hasn’t turned into a ghost.”

“Are you sure? Because I’m picturing him lying in that hospital bed with an IV while nobody tells me anything. American hospitals are too quiet, too cold. In Mexico, at least the nurses are nosy and call the parents!”

“He’s fine.”

“Hah!” she scoffed on the other end. “Of course he told you that! You’re the only one he listens to. That stubborn boy didn’t even reply to me on my birthday last week. Last week, Gretta! I nearly died giving birth to him and he couldn’t send one damn message?”

“Ma, he’ll call you. I made him promise. If he doesn’t call within 24 hours, you have my permission to show up at the hospital and bite his leg.”

“Don’t tempt me. You know I will.”

I laughed. “I know.”

“Gretta, sweetheart…” Her voice shifted then, softened just slightly. Still fast. But there were tears underneath. “You know… no matter what happened between him and your Papa… he’s still my son. He’s still your brother. I just want to know he still feels like he has a home.”

The words landed on my chest like a warm compress that somehow still stung. I bit down on my lower lip. “I know, Ma. I know…”

“Ay…” Mama sighed deeply, then, as always, changed the subject with no warning. “And you? Why do you sound like someone choked you? Did you stay up too late? Overworking again? Don’t tell me you skipped dinner!”

I laughed. “I ate, Ma. I’m okay. Really.”

“You can’t lie to me. Just because we live in different countries doesn’t mean my instincts don’t work. Don’t make me get on a plane tonight.”

“No, don’t. Please don’t! I mean it. I’m just... tired.”

“Tired is human. But if you’re tired because of love, that’s just stupid.”

I closed my eyes, not sure whether to laugh or cry. “Ma, I need to sleep.”

“Are you sure you’re not hiding anything?”

MANY. But I only said, “I’m sure.”

“Alright,” Mama said, though her voice didn’t sound convinced. “Just remember, no one can hug you from afar the way I can pray for you from here. And if that tall handsome man hurts you again—”

“Ma!”

“—I’m going to buy the most expensive pair of heels, fly to America, and kick him right between his legs.”

I covered my mouth, laughing into my palm.

“I’m serious. Don’t be too kind to a man who doesn’t know how to treat a girl like you right.”

“I know, Ma. I know.”

“Good. Sleep well. And don’t forget to reply to Ruan. He said you never open his DMs.”

“Because he only sends memes, Ma.”

“He just wants to feel seen.”

I took a breath. “Okay. I’ll reply.”

“Dios te bendiga, Gretta. Big kisses from Mama.”

“Hugs back, Mama.”

The call ended.

I let the phone drop onto my chest and stared at the ceiling, now completely cloaked in darkness.

Family isn’t something you get to choose. But still, when they speak… the world echoes a little more.