Part 2
I couldn’t breathe.
The bakery spun around me. The scent of fresh conchas and coffee suddenly felt like poison in my throat. I stared at the worn photograph the stranger had placed on the counter — Sofía at twenty-eight, standing in front of the same old pickup truck, wearing a faded black hoodie, her braids loose and tied back with a strip of leather. Her eyes… those eyes were mine. They looked at the camera like she was daring the world to look away.
My daughter.
Alive.
Here.
The stranger — his name turned out to be Diego — pulled out a crumpled business card and slid it toward me.
“Her name’s Sofia. She used to talk about you every single day. Said her mamá had the best bakery in Roma Norte and that one day you’d sell the best conchas in the city. She… she always said you’d understand if she ever needed to disappear.”
I picked up the card with shaking fingers. It read:
Sofía – Disappeared 3 days ago Last seen leaving the apartment in Coyoacán at 11:47 p.m. Possibility of foul play. Reward if you have information.
I dropped the card like it burned.
“Foul play?” I whispered. “She said she had to disappear… because of what?”
Diego looked toward the door again, voice dropping to a gravelly murmur.
“She was trying to take down a cartel. A guy who runs guns and people through my bar in Coyoacán. He had her cornered — threatened to hurt her if she didn’t feed him information on the other crews. She got out three days ago but… she didn’t make it home.”
The other men shifted uncomfortably. One of them muttered, “We heard she was mixed up with the wrong people.”
I didn’t hear them. My entire world had narrowed to the tattoo on the stranger’s arm. The same face. The same eyes. The same small cloth doll I’d given her the day she disappeared.
I reached out and touched the tattoo with one trembling finger.
“She’s… beautiful,” I said, voice cracking. “Just like her mother.”
Diego’s eyes softened. “She was proud to look like you. Said you raised her to be tough.”
Tough.
I had raised her to be safe.
The bell above the door jingled. A customer walked in. I forced myself to smile at her the way I always did — the same smile I’d worn for eight years while telling everyone I was “strong.”
Inside, something had shattered.
After they left, Diego leaned closer.
“Sofía told me one more thing before she disappeared. She said if she ever went missing, the bakery in Roma Norte would be the first place anyone looked. She said… she said to tell you she’s sorry for scaring you. And that she never stopped loving you.”
The world tilted.
