Leonardo Ortega had everything many dreamed of. He had luxury cars, a house that looked like something out of a movie, and a bank account that never seemed to run out, even if he spent like crazy. At his age, he owned one of the largest hotel chains in the country. People saw him and thought his life was perfect, but Leonardo, though he didn’t say it, carried an old sadness in his heart, a sadness that came from when he was a child and asked about his mother, and no one knew the right answer, or so they told him.
Only his Aunt Ramona, who had been like a second mother to him, assured him that his parents had died in an accident and that it was best not to dredge up those memories. It was a cloudy Friday when Leonardo decided he wanted to do something different. He didn’t want another meeting or another fancy party. He asked his secretary to find a nursing home where they could make a generous donation. Not just any nursing home, but one that truly needed help. That’s how he ended up at 19 San Felipe, in an old nursing home with peeling walls and a musty smell. As soon as he got out of his truck, the director of the place, a short woman with dyed red hair, came out to greet him as if he were a celebrity. The plan was simple: Leonardo was going to hand over a check, take a picture for his company’s social media, and get out of there as quickly as possible. But as soon as he crossed the front door, something changed.
The atmosphere was somber, but there was something else, something that tugged at his soul. He walked down the long hallway, watching the elderly residents sitting in broken armchairs, some asleep, others watching TV, not quite understanding what was happening. Then he saw her sitting in a chair… Near a dirty window, a woman with disheveled, wrinkled white hair stood with a gaze that sent shivers down his spine. He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. It was as if something deep inside him screamed that he knew her. He approached slowly, his hand trembling slightly—unusual for him, as he was normally a confident and resolute man. The woman looked up as if she felt someone calling her without words. Leonardo swallowed hard. She wasn’t the most well-groomed or the best-dressed. In fact, she seemed like one of the most forgotten people there. But there was something about her face, the way she tilted her head, that felt unbearably familiar.
The nursing home director, seeing his interest, quickly approached him to tell him that the woman’s name was Carmen and that she had been there for many years. She had no registered relatives and, according to them, didn’t talk much either. Sometimes she uttered a few words, sometimes she stared into space for hours. Leonardo asked how she had gotten there, but the director just shrugged, saying that the oldest records had been lost in a flood a few years ago. Leonardo didn’t know why, but he felt the need to kneel before Carmen. Not to have his picture taken, nor to make a good impression; it was something else, something deep inside him. When he stood before her, Carmen raised her trembling hand and touched his cheek. Leonardo froze. She murmured something barely audible, something that sounded like her name to him. It couldn’t be, he told himself. It couldn’t be. He felt the world spinning.
The director nervously asked if everything was alright. Leonardo just nodded, but his head was a mess. Suddenly, the check, the photos, and the charity event didn’t matter anymore. The only thing that mattered was this woman in front of him. That woman, though he couldn’t remember where or how she came from, he felt had been in his life long before that moment.
He took out his wallet and, almost without thinking, gave the director some money so they wouldn’t lack anything that week, but he didn’t want to take pictures. He didn’t want anyone using it to post on social media. Only one thought occupied his mind: to find out who Carmen really was.
Before leaving, Leonardo asked the director if he could visit her again. The woman smiled, believing he was just another one of those guilty millionaires who wanted to sponsor an old person to ease their conscience. Leonardo didn’t bother correcting her; he simply asked to be allowed to return whenever he wanted.
Back in his truck, his sweaty hands on the steering wheel, Leonardo felt something he hadn’t felt in years: fear. Fear of what they would find if he kept digging. Fear of discovering that his life, that perfect and brilliant life he had built, wasn’t based on truths but on very old lies. He started the engine, but couldn’t stop glancing at the nursing home in the rearview mirror as he drove away.
Carmen, that woman lost in her own world, was a piece of his story that had somehow returned to find him. And Leonardo knew he wouldn’t be able to rest until he knew the whole truth.
Leonardo couldn’t sleep that night. He closed his eyes and all he saw was Carmen’s face. He didn’t understand what was happening to him. He was a practical man, used to making quick decisions without getting carried away.
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