“He was nervous. Super nervous,” she says. “He was fixing his tie in the mirror.”
Lucía adds, like a scientist providing the final data point, “He never fixes his tie. So we knew it was important.”
Your stomach does a small flip you do not fully understand.
A man who tries for a date. A man who gets nervous. A man whose children are invested enough to stage a tiny mission for his happiness.
It is adorable, yes. It is also a little heartbreaking.
“And you decided to come before him?” you ask, keeping your eyebrows neutral while your mind races.
Valentina corrects you immediately, offended by the implication.
“Not before,” she says. “It is because he had to go back to work. Something broke with the servers, and he fixes things.”
Renata’s mouth tightens like she is carrying responsibility too big for her age.
“But we did not want you to think he forgot,” she says. “He was excited. He even burned the pancakes.”
Lucía shrugs calmly.
“He always burns pancakes,” she says. “But today was worse.”
You press your lips together to keep from laughing again, and it hits you that these girls are not just clever.
They are watching their father closely. They know his habits, his sadness, his effort. They know what his bravery looks like in small domestic disasters.
You glance toward the door instinctively, half expecting this mysterious man to burst in at any second.
“So did you convince a babysitter to bring you?” you ask.
The girls exchange a look that has the unmistakable energy of shared guilt.
Renata answers carefully.
“We did not convince her,” she says.
Valentina blurts the truth like a confession wrapped in sparkles.
“We maybe told her Dad said it was okay,” she says quickly. “Which he will say when he finds out it worked.”
You raise your eyebrows.
“Worked?” you repeat.
Lucía smiles, showing a tiny gap in her teeth, and says the sentence that lands softly but deep.
“Our plan so Dad does not quit being happy.”
For a moment, you forget the café around you. You forget the empty chair, the late stranger, the whole concept of a blind date.
You see three small faces looking at you as if you are not just a woman at a table, but a possibility.
You lean back, studying them, trying to keep your heart from making any promises it cannot keep.
“Why is it so important?” you ask gently. “Why all this?”
