“Why did you keep it?”
“I hoped one day you would ask what I remembered.”
“What does it say?”
Elena smiled faintly.
“That should be your choice too.”
They embraced at the doorway.
It was awkward at first.
Then familiar in a way neither could explain.
The sun was low when the motorcar turned back toward the convent.
Esperanza sat in the rear seat with Elena’s letter unopened beside her.
Mother Caridad watched the road.
Doctor Paloma drove more slowly than before.
“We should telephone the convent,” she said. “They will be expecting us.”
“We will stop at the next village,” Mother Caridad replied.
Esperanza looked out at the fields.
She felt tired, but not lost.
The mystery remained. Father Esteban’s role was still unclear. Sister Beatriz might know something—or might only have been used by someone she trusted. The pregnancy itself carried questions no one could yet answer.
But one fear had softened.
Elena was not coming to take her children.
Her sister had been searching for truth too.
Esperanza reached for the envelope.
Mother Caridad turned slightly.
“You do not need to read it now.”
“I know.”
Esperanza opened it anyway.
Inside was a single sheet.
Ana,
You asked me to write down what happened in case your memory became uncertain again.
You chose to help me once, and then you chose to stop. Both choices were yours.
After the first procedure failed, you told Mother Inés you were frightened by how easily others spoke about your body as though it belonged to a plan instead of to you.
You asked her to destroy every remaining authorization.
She promised she would.
You also asked one more thing.
You said that if you ever became pregnant without remembering your choice, someone must tell Mother Caridad immediately.
You trusted her to protect your right to decide.
Esperanza stopped reading.
Her eyes lifted toward the front seat.
“Mother.”
Caridad turned.
Esperanza handed her the letter.
Mother Caridad read it once, then again.
Her face changed—not with anger, but recognition.
“What is it?” Paloma asked.
Mother Caridad looked toward the road ahead.
“There is something I remember now.”
Esperanza leaned forward.
“What?”
“The night before your first pregnancy was discovered, Mother Inés came to my room.”
Doctor Paloma glanced at her.
“You never told me this.”
“I did not understand it then.”
Mother Caridad’s hands tightened around the letter.
