The Andes Dream-Chapter 244: Unraveling the Knot

"How do you really feel about her?" Carlos asked, his voice steady but heavy with anticipation. "I want your honest thoughts. Do not soften your words for my sake—I can endure the truth."

Isabella remained silent for a moment, her gaze fixed on the steam rising from her cup.

"In truth... I do not hate her," she began softly. "The venom in my words after the attack... it was born in the moment."

She paused.

"If she had not come to our estate seeking your protection, you wouldn’t have been wounded. I blamed her for the blood on your sleeve."

Her voice softened further.

"But later, I understood. If you hadn’t chosen to protect her, she would have died. Her sons would be orphans."

She looked up at him.

"You taught me that if we have the power to help someone, we must extend a hand."

Carlos raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised.

He had expected resentment—perhaps even anger, or tears. Maybe even a complaint about her late mother.

Instead, he found something far more complex.

"If that is the case," Carlos said carefully, "then why are you so cold toward her? Amelia tells me that whenever you are in the same room, your entire demeanor changes."

He studied her expression.

"You go from lively and bright... to a pillar of ice."

Isabella hesitated, her fingers tracing the edge of her saucer.

"It is... awkwardness, Father," she admitted. "I know I was unjust, but I lack the courage to apologize as I should. So instead... I freeze."

She exhaled slowly.

"And truthfully..."

She lifted her gaze again, a flicker of fire returning to her eyes.

"There is still a splinter of resentment."

Her voice hardened just slightly.

"I understand it was not her fault. She was a desperate mother."

She paused.

"But the truth remains... her shadow brought danger to our door."

Carlos held her gaze.

He could see the internal struggle clearly.

Isabella was intelligent enough to understand the logic of the situation—but her heart had not fully followed.

She knew she was wrong in principle.

But her love for him made it impossible to completely let go of that fear... that anger.

"You must understand something, Isabella," Carlos said gently.

"Your mother was also a victim of human tragedy."

His tone softened, carrying a rare vulnerability.

"When my father saved her, he was not acting out of pure kindness. There were darker intentions behind it."

He looked down briefly.

"But the truth remains—he saved her."

Carlos’s eyes returned to Isabella.

"If he had not found her and her mother while they were fleeing famine... if he had chosen to ignore them..."

His voice lowered.

"I would have lost the greatest treasures of my life."

"You... and your brother."

He paused, letting the words settle.

"It was that strange twist of fate—my father, even driven by his own interests, choosing to save a family—that shaped the man I became."

Carlos leaned back slightly.

"That family gave me a place in this world. It taught me that helping others is not just an act of kindness—it is an investment in the future."

He gave a faint, bittersweet smile.

"The person you save today may one day give life, safety, or purpose to someone else."

His expression grew more serious.

"I know the risks. And I admit... I may have been careless when I brought Amelia into our lives."

He sighed.

"But just as you cannot forget your resentment... I cannot abandon my duty to those in danger."

For a moment, his eyes drifted to the empty seat beside them.

As if someone were sitting there.

"And Amelia..." he added quietly, "in a strange turn of fate... she has helped revive a part of me that died when your mother passed away."

At the mention of her mother, Isabella fell silent.

For a moment, the noise of the tavern seemed distant.

Then she hesitated.

"May I ask something?" she said softly.

Carlos nodded.

"What was she really like?"

Isabella looked down briefly before continuing.

"You and Francisco always tell me wonderful things about her. She sounds... perfect."

Her voice trembled slightly.

"Almost like a saint."

She lifted her eyes again.

"But that hurts in a way."

Carlos frowned slightly, listening closely.

"You both knew her as a real person—with flaws, with struggles," Isabella said. "But I never did."

Her voice became quieter.

"To me... she feels untouchable. Perfect."

She swallowed.

"And I don’t know how to love someone who feels... impossible to reach."

Carlos fell silent for a moment, deep in thought.

Perhaps, he realized, speaking only of her virtues had been a mistake.

It was not that he could speak ill of her—he never could. She had given her life bringing Isabella into the world. To criticize her would feel like an act of ingratitude.

But perhaps... perfection was the problem.

Then something came to his mind.

He looked at Isabella and spoke again.

"She was stubborn," he said softly. "Very stubborn... a little like you."

A faint smile appeared on his face.

"And like me."

Isabella listened closely.

"When she was pregnant with you—about five or six months—she became very weak. We called a doctor."

His expression darkened slightly at the memory.

"The doctor warned us that if she continued the pregnancy... she might die."

Isabella’s hands tightened slightly on the table.

"He even offered to give her ruda... to end the pregnancy."

Carlos paused.

"But she refused."

His voice softened.

"She said that the life inside her was more precious than anything else."

He looked down, his eyes distant.

"I was a mess back then. I stopped taking work far from Bogotá. We earned less money, but we were already stable—it did not matter."

He exhaled slowly.

"I just wanted to spend as much time with her as I could."

A small, fragile smile appeared on his lips.

"In the end... she gave birth to you."

He looked at Isabella with warmth.

"A beautiful life."

His voice trembled slightly.

"And her last words..."

He paused, his throat tightening.

"...were asking me to protect you. Because you were the last gift she could give me."

Tears began to slide down his cheeks.

For a moment, he said nothing.

Then, with a faint, bittersweet chuckle, he continued.

"She was also... a little spoiled in this household."

Isabella blinked in surprise.

"You may not have noticed," Carlos said, "but even though I am the head of the family... sometimes your grandmother María has more authority than I do."

He smiled faintly.

"That is because of your mother."

His tone became lighter.

"When she wanted something—or when she believed Francisco needed something—she would not stop until she got her way."

He shook his head, almost amused.

"She would scold me endlessly until I found a solution."

Then he leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret.

"And there is something else..."

He smiled.

"This is something even the servants do not know."

Isabella leaned in, curious.

"She was terrible at cooking."

For a second, there was silence.

Then Isabella burst into laughter.

The image shattered completely—the perfect, untouchable figure replaced by someone real.

Someone human.

As Carlos continued sharing small stories, Isabella listened with shining eyes, laughing at times and gently comforting him whenever his voice faltered.

Meanwhile, behind the counter, the tavern owner stood frozen, holding a tray.

He had approached several times, intending to serve the food—but each time he hesitated.

Seeing a man like Carlos, strong and respected, crying openly while speaking of his wife... left him unsure of what to do. 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

Finally, his wife noticed him standing there awkwardly.

Rolling her eyes, she took the dishes from his hands.

Without hesitation, she walked toward their table.

"Sir, young lady," she said politely, her tone apologetic, "your food is ready. I am sorry to interrupt, but we must also attend to the other guests."

Carlos and Isabella looked up and nodded.

"My apologies," Carlos said. "We became a little lost in our conversation."

He gave a small, grateful smile.

"And thank you for the meal."

Isabella nodded as well.

After the woman left, father and daughter looked at each other.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then they both let out a soft, knowing chuckle.

That afternoon, something long held tight between them finally loosened.

And in the quiet warmth of the tavern, the bond between father and daughter grew stronger than ever.

After their hearty meal, Carlos walked to the counter and paid in pesos, leaving a little extra as a gratuity for the trouble.

Then, together, they stepped outside.

It was clear that something between them had changed.

As they walked through the streets, watching people pass by from one side to the other, both carried a new lightness in their hearts.

They smiled more easily.

"Now," Carlos said after a moment, "I need to go see the river."

He glanced at Isabella.

"Do you want to come with me? This is... an important matter."

Isabella nodded without hesitation.

"I do," she said. "I always see you buried in documents, worrying about things I don’t fully understand."

She looked ahead, thoughtful.

"Maybe if I see it with you... I can begin to understand what you really do."

Carlos smiled faintly.

"Then come."

Together, they walked toward the river.