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Daniela felt a mixture of anger and sadness at her mother’s prejudice. Mom, this man could be saving Dad’s life. Don’t be dramatic. Your father is going to get better because he has the best doctors taking care of him, not because a factory worker is telling him stories. Back in the room, Alberto was questioning Manuel about financial details of his former partnership with his father. You said you were a partner with my father. Do you have any documentation to prove it? Yes, I do, young man.
I saved all the papers from our partnership. And why did you save them 30 years ago? Because they were the best years of my life, Professor. And because I always hoped that one day your father would remember our dreams. Dr. Velázquez observed Rodrigo and noticed something interesting. Gentlemen, look at this. When you argue, the patient’s vital signs change. It’s as if there’s tension in the air. Alberto was visibly upset by the observation. Doctor, that can’t be true.
He’s in a coma. A catatonic state, not a coma. They’re different conditions. Catatonic patients sometimes retain some awareness of their surroundings. Manuel approached the bed and spoke softly. “Excuse me, Rodri, there shouldn’t have been any discussion here. I’m going to continue telling you about our projects.” He began to describe in detail a residential building they had built together, talking about each stage of construction, the challenges they faced, the joy when they handed the keys to the families. As he spoke, Rodrigo’s vital signs stabilized into a calmer pattern.
When Patricia and Daniela returned, they found the room more serene. “How is he?” Daniela asked. “Calmer,” Dr. Velázquez replied. Mr. Manuel has a very interesting calming effect on her father. Patricia watched Manuel speaking softly with Rodrigo, and for a moment her expression softened. There was something genuine about the man’s dedication that she couldn’t deny. “Mr. Manuel,” Patricia said, surprising everyone. “What exactly do you hope will happen?” Manuel turned to her, nervous about being questioned by Rodrigo’s wife.
Ma’am, I just want my friend to get better, nothing more. But you must understand that if my husband gets better, he’ll go back to the life he built over the last 30 years, not the life he had 30 years ago. I understand perfectly, ma’am. I don’t want to go back to the past; I just want him to remember that there is goodness in the world. Manuel’s response moved Patricia in a way she hadn’t expected. Maybe there was some courage in that simple man after all.
That afternoon, Daniela decided to go to the company’s office to investigate the old documents Manuel had mentioned. In the filing cabinet, she found a dusty folder with the name Hernández An Morales Constructores. Inside the folder were contracts, architectural plans, and photographs that confirmed everything Manuel had said. There was also a handwritten letter from her father, never sent, addressed to Manuel. The letter read, “Dear Manuel, I know we haven’t spoken in a long time, and the fault is entirely mine.
I let success go to my head and forgot the true values you taught me. I hope one day you can forgive me for becoming a person the 25-year-old you knew wouldn’t recognize. Every night before I go to sleep, I remember our dreams and wonder when I started to lose my way. You always said money should be a consequence of doing good, not the main goal. I forgot that.
I’d like to meet you again and try to rebuild our friendship, but I’m ashamed of the man I’ve become, your friend forever, Rodrigo. Daniela cried when she read the letter. It was dated just two years ago. She ran back to the hospital and showed the letter to Manuel. When she finished reading it, she couldn’t hold back her tears either. “I knew the Rodri in my heart was still in there,” he said emotionally. “Why didn’t my dad send this letter? I’m proud of you, miss.”
Pride is the greatest enemy of happiness. Dr. Velázquez suggested that Manuel read the letter aloud to Rodrigo. Perhaps hearing his own words might prompt some kind of response. With his voice trembling, Manuel began to read the letter. When he reached the part about the 25-year-old, Rodrigo’s monitors went off. “He’s listening,” Daniela whispered. “Rodri, you wrote this two years ago. You never forgot me like I never forgot you,” Manuel said, taking Rodrigo’s hand.
For the first time in three weeks, Rodrigo’s fingers moved. “Doctor,” Daniela shouted, “he’s moved his hand.” Dr. Velázquez rushed over to check the equipment and confirm the movement. It was true, there had been a voluntary muscle contraction. Alberto, who until then had remained skeptical, was also impressed by his father’s reaction. “This means he can wake up, it means we’re on the right track,” Dr. Velázquez replied. “Mr. Manuel, keep doing what you’re doing.” In the following days, Manuel began visiting Rodrigo twice a day.
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