Thirty years ago.
" Where is he?" Salvador whispered into his wife's ear.
Fernanda, who sat beside him, turned, a small frown sketched on her beautiful face. " Who?" She asked.
" That son of yours." The sound of soft music streaming in the background did a wonderful job of muffling the irritation in Salvador's tone, however, Fernanda still heard it. She always did.
" Our son." Fernanda corrected for what felt like the millionth time. Their children were considered hers only when they erred. It was Salvador's way of putting the blame on her; it was his way of saying that whatever unpleasant attribute their children exhibited was a result of her not being a good enough mother. Fernanda didn't believe him. She knew she was a good mother, she worked hard to raise their kids the best she humanly could and no one could tell her otherwise, especially not her husband. " Dominic is out of the state. Something to do with work."
