Prison Daddy
Copyright© 2026 by Kinjite
Chapter 10: The Return
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 10: The Return - Rafael raped his sister Carmen. Esme is their daughter—a child of incest. For fifteen years, Carmen stays silent, believing it will protect her. Rosa believes her imprisoned son deserves family. She arranges the connection. Carmen tried to shield Esme by telling her nothing. Rosa filled the silence with access to Rafael. Rafael filled Esme's void with stories. And Esme filled her womb with his children.
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/ft NonConsensual Rape Reluctant Heterosexual Incest Father Daughter Cream Pie First Pregnancy Voyeurism Size AI Generated
Timeline: Friday-Sunday, April 2023
Esme age 30, Luna age 14, Mateo (12), Sofia (10), Diego (8)
Friday Morning - 9:00 AM
The bus pulled into Greenhaven at 9 AM.
Three years. Three years since we’d made this trip.
Luna pressed her face to the window. “There it is.” Her voice quiet but intense. Like she’d been holding her breath for three years and could finally exhale.
“I know, baby.”
She’d been vibrating with nervous energy the entire ride. Three hours on the bus. She hadn’t stopped fidgeting.
“Do you think Papi will recognize me? In person? I know he sees me on video, but it’s different in person, right?”
“He’ll recognize you.”
“What if I look different than he remembers?”
“Luna, he’s not going to—”
“I just want him to be happy to see me.”
“He will be.”
Mateo sat across from us. Quiet. A thick fantasy novel open in his lap—something with a dragon on the cover.
He turned a page without looking up. The same way he’d been the entire three-hour ride. While Sofia bounced and Diego squirmed and Luna fidgeted, Mateo just ... read.
He’d always been like this. While other kids ran screaming, Mateo built block towers in corners.
I watched him now. Twelve years old. Already filing away details—the guard towers, the razor wire, the way that guard’s hand rested on his gun.
He didn’t miss anything. Never had.
Sofia bounced in the seat next to him. Ten years old and never still.
“Mateo, look! Look at that sign! It says Greenhaven! We’re almost there!”
Mateo glanced up. “I know.”
“Aren’t you excited?”
“Yeah.”
“You don’t look excited.”
“I’m reading.”
“But Papi! We’re going to see Papi!”
“I know, Sofia.”
She turned to me. “Mama, is Papi going to remember me?”
“Of course he is.”
“What if he forgot what I look like?”
“He sees you on video every week.”
“But that’s different!” She leaned across the aisle. “Right, Luna? It’s different in person?”
Luna smiled at her. “It’s different. But better.”
Sofia beamed. She copied everything Luna did. Wanted to be just like her big sister.
Diego tugged on my sleeve. Eight years old. The baby. Still clingy.
“Mama, I have to go to the bathroom.”
“We’re almost there, baby.”
“But I have to go now.”
“Can you hold it?”
His face scrunched up. “I don’t know.”
“Ten more minutes. You can do it.”
He squirmed. Pressed his legs together.
He leaned against me. Still my baby. Still needed me for everything.
Five minutes later: “Mama, I’m hungry.”
“We’ll eat when we get there.”
“But I’m hungry now.”
I dug in my bag. Found a granola bar. Handed it to him.
“Thank you, Mama.”
The bus slowed. Pulled into the station.
“We’re here!” Sofia practically screamed.
“Shh. Inside voice.”
“Sorry, Mama. But we’re here!”
Luna was already standing. Grabbing her bag. Practically vibrating.
“Come on, come on.”
“Luna, wait for everyone else.”
But she was already moving toward the front of the bus.
We got off the bus. All five of us. Bags in hand.
Luna leading the way. Impatient.
Mateo trailing behind. Book tucked under his arm. Watching everything—the prison walls, the guard towers, the other people waiting at the gates.
Sofia skipping. Humming some cartoon song. Talking to herself.
Diego holding my hand. Nervous.
“Mama, is the prison scary?”
“No, baby. Papi’s there. Nothing to be scared of.”
“But there are bad people there.”
“Papi’s not bad.”
“Then why is he there?”
“We’ve talked about this, Diego.”
“I know. But I forgot.”
“He made a mistake. A long time ago. And now he’s paying for it.”
“When can he come home?”
“Someday.”
Not true. Not for a very long time. But Diego was eight. He didn’t need to know that.
Check-in took twenty minutes. IDs. Approval letter. Names checked against the list.
The guard looked at all of us. “Big family visit.”
“Extended visit,” I said. “Three days.”
“Trailer 12. You know where that is?”
“Yes.”
He stamped our papers. Waved us through.
Diego pressed closer to me. “Mama, why does that man have a gun?”
“He’s a guard, baby. It’s his job.”
“Is he going to shoot someone?”
“No. It’s just in case.”
“In case what?”
“In case someone tries to escape.”
“Would Papi try to escape?”
“No, baby.”
Mateo looked back at the guard. Said nothing. Just filed the information away in his head.
We walked across the yard.
Inmates at windows. Whistling. Calling out.
“Damn, look at that!”
“Hey, baby! Come talk to me!”
“Bring the pretty one over here!”
I didn’t know if they meant me or Luna.
I put my arm around Luna’s shoulders. Protective.
She looked up at me. “Why are they yelling?”
“Ignore them.”
“But—”
“Just ignore them, Luna.”
Sofia skipped ahead, oblivious. “This place is big!”
Mateo walked beside me. Quiet. But I saw him looking at the inmates. At the bars. At the razor wire on the fences. Processing everything.
Friday - 10:00 AM
Trailer 12 was at the far end of the yard. Family-sized. For visits with multiple kids.
Rafael was waiting outside.
Clean clothes. Jeans. T-shirt. They let inmates wear their own clothes for extended visits now—something new since COVID.
He saw us coming.
His face broke into a huge smile.
“My family!”
The younger kids ran to him.
“Papi!”
He crouched down. Caught Diego and Sofia in both arms. They nearly knocked him over.
“Look at you! You’re so big!”
“We missed you!”
“I missed you too, babies.”
Sofia hugged him tight. “I thought you’d forget what I looked like!”
“Never, mija. I could never forget you.”
Diego buried his face in Rafael’s shoulder. Started crying.
“Hey, hey. What’s this?”
“I missed you so much, Papi.”
“I know, mijo. I missed you too. But I’m here now. We have the whole weekend.”
Mateo hung back. Shy. Twelve years old now. Too old to run, too young to know what else to do.
Rafael reached for him. “Mateo. Come here, mijo.”
Mateo let himself be pulled into the hug. Stiff. Uncertain.
Rafael kissed his head. “You’ve grown. You’re almost as tall as me.”
“Not yet.”
“Soon.” Rafael ruffled his hair. “What are you reading?”
Mateo held up his book. “Fantasy novel.”
“Any good?”
“Yeah.”
“You’ll have to tell me about it.”
Mateo nodded. Small smile.
Rafael stood. Released the younger kids.
Looked at Luna.
She’d stopped walking ten feet back. Just standing there. Frozen.
Her bag clutched in both hands. Face flushed. Eyes bright.
Rafael smiled. Opened his arms. “Luna. Come here, mija.”
She walked forward slowly. Like she was afraid. Or like she didn’t trust that this was real.
When she reached him, she dropped her bag. Stepped into his arms.
He wrapped her up. Held her tight. One hand on her back, one hand in her hair.
Held her for a long moment.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured into her hair. “Just like your mama at your age.”
Luna’s face glowed.
Rafael pulled back slightly. Looked at her. Really looked at her.
His eyes traveled over her face. Her body. The blue sundress that hugged her developing curves.
“You’ve grown up so much.”
“It’s been three years, Papi.”
“I know. But still. You’re not my little girl anymore.”
“I’ll always be your little girl.”
He smiled. Kissed her forehead. “Yes. You will.”
His hand lingered on her waist. Just a moment too long.
I watched from behind them. Holding the bags. Already tired.
Inside, the trailer was spacious. Family-sized.
Main room: small kitchenette, table with six chairs, a couch, TV mounted on the wall.
To the left: bathroom.
To the right: bedroom with a double bed and a door that closed.
The couch folded out into a queen-size bed. That’s where the kids would sleep.
It was tight. But it would work.
The kids explored immediately.
“There’s a TV!”
“Can we watch something?”
Sofia ran to the bedroom. Peeked inside. “Ooh, a big bed!”
“That’s for Mama and Papi,” Luna said automatically.
“Where do we sleep?”
“Here.” Luna pointed to the couch. “It pulls out.”
Diego looked skeptical. “All of us?”
“All of us.”
“That’s going to be crowded.”
“It’s just for two nights. We’ll be fine.”
Rafael came up behind Luna. Put his hand on her shoulder. “You’ve got this all figured out, don’t you?”
Luna smiled up at him. “I tried to plan everything.”
“You did good, mija.”
His hand slid down her back briefly before he stepped away.
I saw it. The touch. Casual. But lingering.
Told myself it was nothing.
We spent the afternoon settling in. Unpacking bags. Setting up sleeping areas. Putting food in the mini-fridge.
The kids were everywhere. Loud. Excited. Overwhelming.
But Rafael didn’t seem overwhelmed. He moved through them easily. Patient. Attentive.
Helping Diego set up his toy cars on the coffee table.
Listening to Sofia tell him about school, her friends, her teacher who was mean.
Asking Mateo about his book. Actually listening when Mateo explained the plot.
And Luna—
Luna followed him everywhere.
Helping him unpack. Handing him things. Watching him like she was afraid he’d disappear if she looked away.
“Luna, do you want to help me make lunch?” Rafael asked.
“Yes!”
She practically ran to the kitchenette.
I sat on the couch. Watching.
Rafael showed her how to cut vegetables. His hand over hers on the knife. Teaching her. Guiding her.
Just like he’d taught me when I was her age.
“You’re a natural,” he said.
Luna beamed. “Really?”
“Really. You have good instincts.”
She glowed under his praise.
I looked away.
Friday - 1:00 PM
Lunch was sandwiches. Simple. The kids ate fast and then went back to playing.
Diego crashed his cars together. Making explosion sounds.
Sofia drew pictures. Showing them to Rafael every five minutes. “Look, Papi! It’s you!”
Mateo retreated to the corner with his book. Content.
Rafael and I cleaned up together.
“They’re good kids,” he said quietly.
“They are.”
“You’ve done an amazing job with them.”
“Luna does most of it, honestly.”
He looked at her. She was on the couch, reading to Sofia and Diego. Patient. Gentle. Like a little mother.
“She’s very mature for her age,” he said.
Something about the way he said it made my stomach turn.
But I pushed it away.
He’s their father. He loves them. Stop being paranoid.
The afternoon passed in a blur. Games. Movies. Laughter.
Rafael played with the kids. Wrestled with Diego on the floor. Let Sofia paint his nails bright pink. Talked to Mateo about dragons and magic systems.
And Luna—always nearby. Always helping. Always watching him with that adoring look.
The look I used to give him.
The look that meant worship.
Friday - 3:30 PM
The younger kids were outside. Diego and Sofia chasing each other in the small yard. Mateo sitting on a bench reading.
I was in the kitchenette. Cleaning up from lunch. Organizing snacks for later.
Luna and Rafael were in the main room. On the couch.
I could see them from where I stood. Could hear them.
Rafael sat in the middle. Luna next to him. Not touching. But close.
“Come here, mija,” Rafael said. Patted his lap.
Luna hesitated. “Papi, I’m too big for that.”
“You’re never too big to sit with your father.”
She glanced at me. I was facing away. Wiping down the counter.
Luna stood. Moved to sit on his lap.
Awkward. She didn’t know how to position herself. Too big to sit sideways like a little girl. Too old to straddle him like a toddler.
She settled sideways. Her legs dangling over his. Her weight on one of his thighs.
Rafael’s arm went around her waist. Steadying her.
“There. That’s not so bad, is it?”
Luna smiled. Uncertain. “I’m probably too heavy.”
“You’re perfect.”
His hand on her waist. Thumb rubbing small circles through the fabric of her dress.
Luna shifted. Uncomfortable. But didn’t move away.
“Tell me about school,” Rafael said. “You doing well?”
“Yeah. Mostly A’s. One B in math.”
“That’s my smart girl.”
His other hand came up. Brushed her hair back from her face. Let his fingers linger. Tucked it behind her ear. Then traced down her jawline.
Luna’s breath caught. She didn’t pull away. But her body tensed.
“You’re so beautiful, Luna. Do the boys at school notice?”
Her face went red. “Papi—”
“What? It’s a normal question. You’re fourteen. There must be boys.”
“I don’t—I don’t really think about that.”
“No?”
“I’m too busy. With school. And the kids.”
Rafael’s hand still on her face. Cupping her cheek now. Making her look at him.
“You should think about it. You’re becoming a woman. It’s natural.”
Luna’s eyes darted toward me. I was still at the sink. Back turned. But I could see their reflection in the window above the sink.
His hand slid from her cheek down to her shoulder. Then lower. To her upper arm. Rubbing. Squeezing gently.
“Have you kissed a boy yet?”
“Papi!” Luna’s face bright red now.
“What? I’m your father. I should know these things.”
“No. I haven’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because—because I don’t want to.”
“You don’t want to? Or you’re waiting for the right person?”
Luna didn’t answer. Just stared at her hands in her lap.
Rafael’s hand slid to her knee. Rested there. Casual. But possessive.
“It’s okay to want things, Luna. To feel things.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
His hand squeezed her knee. Then moved higher. Just slightly. To her lower thigh. Still over her dress. But higher than a father’s hand should be.
Luna shifted. Uncomfortable. “Papi, I should—I should go check on the kids.”
“They’re fine. I can see them from here.”
His hand stayed on her thigh. Rubbing. Slow circles.
“You’re tense, mija. Relax.”
“I’m not tense.”
“Yes, you are. I can feel it.” His hand squeezed her thigh. “You don’t have to be nervous around me. I’m your father. You can tell me anything.”
Luna nodded. But her body was rigid. Every muscle tight.
Rafael leaned in. Kissed her temple. Let his lips linger.
“I’ve missed you so much,” he murmured against her skin.
“I’ve missed you too, Papi.”
“Three years is too long. We have so much time to make up for.”
His hand slid higher. Mid-thigh now. Still over her dress. But the intent was clear.
Luna stood abruptly. “I—I should go. Check on Diego and Sofia.”
Rafael smiled. Let her go. “Of course, mija.”
She practically ran outside.
I turned from the sink. Looked at Rafael.
He met my eyes. Smiled. Relaxed. Satisfied.
Like nothing had happened.
I opened my mouth. Then closed it.
He was just being affectionate. Fathers touch their daughters. This is normal.
I turned back to the sink.
Picked up the sponge. Kept scrubbing.
Friday - 6:00 PM
By dinnertime, I was exhausted. Not physically. Just—emotionally.
Being here. Watching him with them. Pretending everything was normal.
It felt like a performance. And I was the only one who knew it.
Dinner was pasta. Rafael cooked with Luna’s help again.
She handed him ingredients. Stirred when he told her to. Tasted the sauce when he offered her a spoon.
“Perfect,” he said. “You’re a better cook than your mama.”
Luna laughed. “No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. Esme, when did you learn to cook?”
“When I had to.”
“Luna’s learning because she wants to. That’s different.”
Luna glowed again.
We all squeezed around the table. Elbows bumping. Kids talking over each other.
“Papi, can we watch a movie after dinner?”
“Papi, I want to show you my drawing!”
“Papi, can you read my book and tell me if you like it?”
“One at a time,” Rafael laughed. “We have all weekend.”
Luna was quiet. Just eating. Smiling. Content.
Rafael kept touching her. Small touches. Casual.
A hand on her shoulder when he passed behind her chair.
Brushing her hair back when she leaned over her plate.
Adjusting the strap of her sundress when it slipped.
“You did a great job with the sauce, mija.”
“Thanks, Papi.”
I watched. Told myself it was fine.
He’s her father. He knows where the line is.
Friday - 8:00 PM
After dinner, the kids helped clean up.
Luna directed them like a little general. “Sofia, you dry. Diego, put these in the cabinet. Mateo, can you wipe the table?”
They obeyed her without question.
Rafael watched. Smiling. “She’s got them trained.”
“She’s been doing this since she was four,” I said.
“She’s good at it.”
“She shouldn’t have to be.”
He looked at me. “What do you mean?”
“She’s fourteen. She should get to be a kid.”
“She is a kid.”
“No. She’s not. Not really.”
He didn’t respond. Just kept watching Luna.
By 8 PM, the kids were exhausted. Time for bed.
Rafael pulled out the sofa bed. Queen-size. Just big enough for four kids if they squeezed.
“Okay, everyone. Pick your spots.”
Luna climbed on first. Far left side against the armrest.
Mateo next to her.
Sofia next to Mateo.
Diego on the end.
Tight. But they fit.
“This is cozy!” Sofia said.
“It’s crowded,” Mateo muttered.
“But we’re all together!”
Diego was already yawning. “I’m tired.”
“I know, baby. Let’s get you ready for bed.”
I helped them all change into pajamas. Brush teeth. Use the bathroom.
Then tucked them in one by one.
“Goodnight, Luna.”
“Goodnight, Mama.”
I kissed her forehead. She smiled up at me. Still my little girl. Even at fourteen.
“Goodnight, Mateo.”
“Night.”
He was already reaching for his book on the side table.
“No reading. Sleep.”
He sighed. Put the book down.
“Goodnight, Sofia.”
“Night, Mama. I love you.”
“I love you too, baby.”
“Goodnight, Diego.”
“Mama, I’m scared.”
“Scared of what?”
“It’s dark.”
“Papi’s here. And I’m here. You’re safe.”
“Okay.”
I kissed his head again.
Rafael came over. Repeated the ritual. Kissing each of them goodnight.
When he got to Luna, he paused.
His hand lingered on her shoulder. “Sweet dreams, mija.”
“Goodnight, Papi.”
He smiled. Brushed her hair back from her face. Let his fingers trail down her cheek.
Then stood. Walked to the bedroom.
Looked at me. “Coming?”
I glanced at the kids. All four of them already settling. Eyes closing.
“Yeah. I’m coming.”
Friday - 8:45 PM
But I didn’t go to the bedroom right away.
I stayed in the main room. Cleaning up. Wiping down surfaces. Organizing bags.
Stalling.
Rafael came back out. “What are you doing?”
“Just tidying up.”
“It can wait. Come to bed.”
“In a minute.”
He came up behind me. Put his hands on my waist. Pulled me against him.
I could feel him. Already hard. Pressing against my lower back.
“I’ve been waiting three years for this,” he murmured in my ear.
“The kids are right there—”
“They’re asleep.”
“Not all of them.”
I glanced at the sofa bed. Diego was asleep. Sofia too. But Mateo’s eyes were still open. Staring at the ceiling.
And Luna—
Luna was watching us. Her eyes open. Following Rafael’s movements.
“Come on,” Rafael said. Took my hand. Led me toward the bedroom.
I followed.
Glanced back at the sofa bed.
Luna’s eyes met mine. Something in her face. Confusion? Jealousy?
I looked away.
The bedroom door closed behind us.
Friday - 9:00 PM
The bedroom door closed behind us.
Finally alone.
Three years since we’d been alone like this. In person. No video screen between us.
Rafael turned to me. Smiled. “I’ve missed this.”
“Me too.”
He crossed the room. Pulled me against him. Kissed me.
His mouth was warm. Familiar. The taste of him—I’d almost forgotten.
His hands slid to my waist. Then lower. Cupping my ass. Pulling me against him.
I felt him already hard through his jeans.
“I’ve been thinking about this for three years,” he murmured against my mouth.
“Me too.”
It was true. Three years without sex. Without him. Without anyone.
I’d forgotten what it felt like to be wanted like this.
We undressed each other slowly.
His shirt first. I pulled it over his head. Ran my hands over his chest. He’d stayed in shape. Lean. Muscular. Prison body.
My shirt next. He lifted it carefully. Tossed it aside.
My bra. He unhooked it with practiced ease. Cupped my breasts. Thumbs brushing over my nipples.
“You’re beautiful.”
“I’m thirty. I’ve had four kids—”
“You’re beautiful,” he said again. Firm.
I let him believe it.
He unbuttoned my jeans. Slid them down my hips. I stepped out of them. Stood in front of him in just my underwear.
He looked at me. His eyes traveling over my body. Down my stomach. Lower.
To the tattoo.
R&E
Still there. Visible now that my jeans were off. Fourteen years later. The skin around it stretched from pregnancies, but the letters still clear.
His mark.
He traced it with his finger. “Still mine.”
I didn’t answer.
I unbuttoned his jeans. Pushed them down. He stepped out of them. Stood in front of me in just his boxers.
I could see the outline of him. Thick. Hard. Straining against the fabric.
I reached for him. Palmed him through the boxers.
He groaned. “Fuck, Esme.”
“It’s been three years,” I whispered. “I need this.”
“I know.”
He pulled his boxers down. Freed himself.
I looked at him. At his cock. Thick. Long. The head already glistening.
I’d almost forgotten how big he was.
He pulled me toward the bed. We lay down together. His body over mine. Kissing me. Hands everywhere.
I spread my legs. Let him settle between them. Felt the weight of him. The heat.
His cock pressed against my entrance. Blunt. Insistent.
“I want to be on top,” I said.
He paused. Looked at me. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He rolled onto his back. I climbed on top of him. Straddled his hips. Positioned myself over him.
This was different. I hadn’t been on top in years. Not since the kids were small. When I was too exhausted to do anything but lie there.
But now—now I had energy. Control. I wanted this.
I reached down. Wrapped my hand around his cock. Guided him to my entrance. Lowered myself slowly.
The stretch was immediate. Intense.
Three years without sex. My body had forgotten.
“Fuck,” I gasped.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Just—just give me a second.”
I took a breath. Relaxed. Sank down further.
He filled me. Inch by inch. Thick. Stretching me open.
When I was fully seated—when he was buried completely inside me—I stopped. Just sat there. Adjusting.
“God, I forgot how big you are,” I whispered.
He smiled. Hands on my hips. “You feel so good.”
I started to move. Slow at first. Rocking my hips. Finding the angle. The rhythm.
His hands tightened on my hips. Guiding me. Helping me.
I leaned forward. Braced my hands on his chest. Moved faster.
The pleasure built gradually. A slow burn in my core. Spreading outward.
I closed my eyes. Focused on the sensation.
He started thrusting up into me. Matching my rhythm. Meeting me. The angle changed. He hit deeper.
I gasped. “There. Right there.”
“Like that?”
“Yes.”
He did it again. And again. Steady. Controlled.
The pleasure intensified. I felt it building. Tightening.
My thighs burned. My breath came faster.
“I’m close,” I whispered.
“Let go. I’ve got you.”
His hands on my hips. Steadying me. Moving me.
I came. The orgasm rolled through me. Slow. Deep. My body clenching around him. Pulsing.
I cried out. Couldn’t help it. Hoped the kids were asleep. Hoped they didn’t hear. But I couldn’t stop.
He flipped me over. Took control. Got on top. Drove into me hard.
The bed creaked beneath us.
I wrapped my legs around his waist. Pulled him deeper.
“Fuck, Esme. I’m close.”
“Inside me. Always inside me.”
He groaned. Buried himself deep. Stayed there.
I felt him pulse. Felt him emptying into me. Hot. Thick.
He stayed there. Didn’t pull out. Just held himself inside me while he finished.
When he finally rolled off, I felt him leak out. Warm. Wet.
I should’ve cared. Should’ve worried.
Four kids already. No job that could support another. Barely surviving as it is.
But I was thirty. My cycles had been irregular since Diego. And honestly?
I was too tired to care.
If it happened, it happened.
Three years. And we were right back where we started.
We lay together. His arm around me. My head on his chest.
“I love you,” he said.
“I love you too.”
It felt automatic. Like breathing.
I closed my eyes. Felt myself drifting.
“Get some sleep,” Rafael murmured. “I’ve got you.”
Sleep took me fast.
Friday - 11:30 PM
I don’t know how long I slept. An hour. Maybe two.
I woke to Diego crying.
Disoriented. Where am I? The trailer. Right.
Diego’s crying got louder.
I sat up. Rafael was asleep next to me. Didn’t stir.
I got up. Pulled on my shirt and underwear. Went to the door.
The main room was dark except for the glow from the bathroom nightlight.
Diego was sitting up on the sofa bed. Crying.
“Mama!”
I went to him. Crouched down. “What’s wrong, baby?”
“I wet the bed.”
“Oh, Diego.”
He was eight. Too old for this. But it still happened sometimes when he was stressed or excited.
“I’m sorry, Mama.”
“It’s okay, baby. It’s not your fault.”
I looked at the sofa bed. Sure enough—wet spot right where he’d been sleeping.
Luna, Mateo, and Sofia were still asleep. Somehow.
“Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
I took Diego to the bathroom. Helped him out of his wet pajamas. Washed him off in the sink. Found clean clothes in the bag.
“Mama, can you stay with me?”
“Of course, baby.”
I found a clean towel. Laid it over the wet spot on the sofa bed. Good enough for now.
Diego climbed back in.
I started to go back to the bedroom. But he grabbed my hand.
“Mama, please. Stay.”
I looked at the sofa bed. Four kids crammed onto it. There wasn’t really room.
But Luna scooted over. “There’s room, Mama.”
Mateo shifted. Sofia rolled to the side. A small space opened up.
“Okay, baby. I’ll stay.”
I climbed onto the sofa bed. Diego curled against me immediately. His head on my shoulder.
Too tired to get up. Too tired to go back to the bedroom.
I closed my eyes. Fell asleep.
Saturday - 2:15 AM
I woke to a sound.
Voices. Muffled. Coming from the bedroom.
Luna’s voice. Upset.
“Papi, I don’t think—”
Rafael’s voice. Calm. Low.
“Just listen to me. Please.”
My stomach dropped.
I looked to my left. Where Luna had been sleeping.
Empty space.
She was gone.
I got up carefully. Diego was pressed against me. I slid out from under his arm without waking him.
Sofia and Mateo still asleep on the other end of the sofa bed.
Luna missing.
I already knew where she was.
I crossed the main room. Barefoot. Silent.
The bedroom door was cracked open slightly. Light spilling out. It hadn’t latched when they closed it.
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