My daughter's cry

Guillermo and I arrived at the hospital. As he usually did, he held my hand as we looked around. It caught my attention that every time we left the house, he behaved strangely. He seemed afraid that someone he knew would see us or, at worst, that I might escape from his side.

However, at the same time, I tried not to let those assumptions fill my mind with negative thoughts. After all, since I woke up from a coma, the first person I saw was him. Since then, his only purpose was to take care of me, to shower me with attention and love.

Although there was no photo to prove that he was really my husband, as he told me when I woke up, I had no one else to trust other than my psychiatrist.

My memory was blank, and Guillermo was the only person I could lean on. We walked down a long hallway until we reached the psychiatrist's office. There were two patients before me, waiting for a long time.

I signed up for the waiting list with the secretary and took one of the magazines in the room to lo