She stepped out.
Her heels sank slightly into the mud.
She clenched her jaw and walked toward a worn blue house.
The number 847 was barely visible beside the door.
The wooden door was cracked.
Laura knocked.
Once.
Twice.
Nothing.
Then she heard hurried footsteps.
A baby’s cry.
A child’s voice.
The door opened slowly.
And Laura froze.
Carlos stood there.
But he looked nothing like the quiet, neatly dressed employee she knew from the office.
He was wearing an old T-shirt.
His hair was messy.
There were deep dark circles beneath his eyes.
And he was holding a crying baby against his chest.
Another small child was clinging to his leg.
Carlos’s face went pale when he saw her.
“Mrs. Mendoza…”
Laura crossed her arms.
“So this is your ‘family emergency.’”
Carlos didn’t answer.
The baby cried louder.
Then, from somewhere inside the house, Laura heard a weak cough.
