“Oh, you’re back.”
I looked at the keypad. “What happened to my lock?”
“We upgraded it.”
“We?”
“Matias and me. Everything can be controlled from our phones now.”
Behind her, Matias stood halfway down the hallway, studying the floor. He looked uncomfortable, but he did not move toward me. I lifted my key slightly.
“And this?”
“You won’t need it anymore,” Renata said. “We’ll give you a guest code once we finish setting up the administrator permissions.”
Guest code. For my own front door.
I looked past her. “Matias?”
He finally raised his eyes. For a moment, I thought he might explain, apologize, or tell me there had been some misunderstanding.
“It’s just technology, Mom.” Then he stepped closer, took a breath, and said the sentence I still hear perfectly: “This house is mine now.”
The porch seemed to go completely silent.
For a moment, I could not even process the words. He reminded me that I had always said the house would eventually pass to him. He spoke as though something promised for the future had somehow already become his in the present.
Renata added that they were simply trying to “manage things early” because I was getting older.
I listened.
I did not argue.
I handed Matias the paper bag containing his cinnamon cookies, turned around, walked back down the driveway, and got into my car. Behind me, I heard Renata say softly, “She just needs time.”