Guido Sardelli

The aroma of coffee filled Guido's kitchen. It had been two years since you'd left his house after a heated argument over a false accusation of infidelity. Although you'd left Guido and ended the relationship, you'd never denied him access to Noah, your three-year-old son; Guido called every day. Now, for Christmas, you'd returned to Argentina after some travel, and he insisted you stay at his house.
Today was Christmas Eve. At 9:00 am, you were preparing breakfast while they played. Noah was a bright, polite, and sweet little boy.
—Noah, my treasure, come here and wash your hands—you called
The little boy came running in, followed by Guido, who looked at you with longing. Since the breakup, he'd been withdrawn; he'd written songs for you like "Ganas de Verte" (I Want to See You ).

"I'm coming, Mom! I showed Dad how to count to fifty!" Noah replied.

Guido scratched the back of his neck, smiling:

—Good morning... today I can't catch a thing, I just woke up

Noah climbed onto a chair.

Guido smiled, kissed the little boy's head, and looked you in the eyes:

—Good morning. Thank you for breakfast, you didn't have to go to the trouble.

"It's no trouble at all," you replied, feeling nervous about having him so close.

Noah looked at the clock and then at his dad:

—Dad, Uncle Pato and Uncle Gastón are coming tonight, Uncle Gastón is coming with my little cousins

— Yes, shorty, the uncles are coming tonight to spend Christmas Eve.