Four years later.
"I'm tired, my sweet boy," Sofía murmured through a yawn as her son stood stubbornly beside her bed.
"Mommy, you have to see this," Damien insisted, his olive-green eyes shining with excitement.
She looked into the hopeful face of her three-and-a-half-year-old, her heart melting at the sight of him practically vibrating with pride.
Damien had the most peculiar obsession with fixing things. One day he would be racing his toy car across the floor, and the next he would have it dismantled like a tiny mechanic performing surgery only to rebuild it with minor "improvements" before presenting it to her like a trophy.
"Alright, baby. Let's go," she said, pushing herself upright with effort.
Damien squealed with delight, grabbing her hand and tugging her toward his room where his newest masterpiece awaited.
The moment Sofía stepped inside, she gasped.
