Matias

Three years have passed since the accident.

At first, I didn't miss a single day. After dropping our daughter off at home, I would go to the hospital and sit by your side for hours. I would tell you about my day, how our baby was growing, and everything I was afraid to say out loud when you were awake.

But time kept moving forward.

Our daughter grew up. She started school. She learned to read. She gradually lost the memory of your voice.

And I changed too.

The visits became less frequent. Life forced me to move on. Work, responsibilities, and pain ended up taking the place of hope.

Over time, I met another woman. She supported me when I was broken, and without realizing it, I ended up falling in love with her. We ended up getting married.

Right now I'm at home, preparing dinner while our daughter excitedly talks about something that happened at school. My wife is by my side, and the routine continues like any other day.

I don't know that, miles away from here, you just opened your eyes.

I don't know what you're looking at around you, confused.

I don't know that the first thing you ask about is me and our daughter.

I don't know what, while I continue with my new life, you have just woken up in a world that no longer resembles the one you remember.