181

“She won’t know if you do not tell her,” Miguel replies, a mischievous smile lighting up his face.

“Little genius,” I mutter to myself, admiring his wit.

He is very smart for his age, and the way he already understands the nuances of adults is impressive.

I leave the kitchen and go to the living room, where the little one is still in front of the television, completely absorbed. “What are you watching?” I ask, curiosity taking over me.

He turns around, his eyes wide with excitement. “Formula One Championship!” he says, the joy in his voice almost infectious.

“Formula 1, huh?” I say, trying to get involved. “Are you rooting for anyone?”

Miguel nods, enthusiasm brimming over. “Yes! The blue car! It’s the fastest!”

“Oh, so we’re going to run like him, right?” I joke, and he laughs, the innocence of childhood radiating from him.

With every passing second, I feel a growing connection to Miguel. He's not just Blair's son, he's a part of me now, a little piece of joy and responsibility that