Marisol put away the milk, closing the fridge. She grabbed her drink and cookies from the counter, took a sip, and observed her mother, Gloria, chopping veggies for a broth.

The pot simmered on the stove beside Gloria, and the delicious aroma of slowly cooking beef permeated the entire kitchen. Marisol wrinkled her nose, finding that the scent didn't quite align with her afternoon snack.

As Gloria dropped the potatoes into the pot, the broth splashed, narrowly missing her face. She dodged it, anticipating the burn. "So, what are we gonna do, Mija? I'm telling you, someone has cursed you. We need to go see a brujo to cure you," Gloria insisted.

Marisol smiled and replied, "I met someone today at the Arcadian, and he didn't run away from me."

"Really? Who?" Gloria asked, curious to know more.

"His name was Rafa," Marisol said, unable to hide her smile. Gloria noticed her daughter's glow and couldn't help but smile too.

Meanwhile, Henry, who had been watching closely, was taken aback. "Who the hell is Rafa?!" he wondered.

Gloria added a little bit of cumin and cilantro to the pot, "Well, I'm glad things are looking up, Mijita," she said, stirring the broth. "Maybe now you can go back to school."

"No, everyone at the bookstore still ran away. It was just Rafa who stayed," Marisol admitted.

"And this Rafa, do you like him?" Gloria asked.

Marisol blushed, took a sip of milk, and replied, "Um, I don't know yet. I only just met him."

"Well, your face seems to be sure of it," Gloria teased, smiling at her.

Henry's anger intensified, causing him to seethe with frustration. "That blasted demon let me down," he fumed. He took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. "Calm yourself, Henry," he muttered to himself. "You can still impress her with your invention."

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Marisol walked away awkwardly from the kitchen, her mind still pondering about the boy she met at the Arcadian. She leaned against the opening of the living room, where she could see her dad, Carlos, reclining and watching the soccer game.

Suddenly, Carlos jumped up and cheered as his team scored a goal. Marisol's smile faded as she observed how happy he was at that moment. The broth was for him.

Caldo de Res was her dad's absolute favorite dish. Whenever he dug into it, Marisol couldn't resist taking a bite. Yet, no matter how enticing the aroma and her dad's persuasive words were, she always ended up spitting out the beef. It was too 'soft and mushy' she would say. She did, however, enjoy the veggies, potatoes, and the flavorful broth. The elote was her favorite part.

She walked over and sat next to him, wanting to share in his joy.

Henry switched cameras.

"Hey, Dad, how you doing?" Marisol asked, her voice filled with concern.

"I'm doing just fine, kiddo," he replied, grabbing the bowl of popcorn from the coffee table. He kicked his feet up on the table and popped a few kernels in his mouth. He glanced over at Marisol, who still seemed bothered. "What's the matter, baby?" he asked, turning down the TV.

Marisol's voice trembled as she spoke, "It just feels like you don't care is all."

Confused, he asked, "About what?"

Marisol's frustration welled up inside her, "How can you be so unfazed? If it were me with cancer, I-I wouldn't even know how to handle it. All the dreams and plans I've tirelessly built would suddenly lose their meaning. Don't you care that you'll never witness another soccer game? That you won't be able to see Mom anymore? Don't you care about leaving me?" Her voice quivered as tears streamed down her face.

Carlos looked at his daughter with love and concern, his voice gentle, "Marisol, were you not listening to the doctor? They found it early enough to treat it. It's not like I have a death date or something. C'mon, I'm still here, ain't I?"

"But for how long?" she asked, already aware that he didn't have the answer. "Dad, treatment is not a cure," she said wiping away her tears.

"Don't worry too much about me," he reassured her. "You can't let me stop you from achieving your goals in life. Because when you succeed, I succeed. Every time you win that science fair, it makes me the happiest man alive."

Henry smiled in his laboratory, feeling confident. "Sorry to break it to you, Mr. Medina. But she won't be winning this year," he declared. "Thanks to my new invention, there's no way I can lose. But don't you worry, my dear Marisol," he continued, leaning forward and gently putting his hand on the screen. He caressed Marisol's face, "If my invention works, which it will. I'll be able to save your dear old father and win your heart in the process," he proudly declared.

"Hey guys come taste this!" Gloria called out, her voice echoing through the house.

"Coming!" Carlos eagerly replied. He had been home for a while, and when Gloria texted him to start the broth because she was running late, he jumped right into action without a second thought.

"I'll go change real quick," Marisol declared, striding away. "Hold on," Carlos interjected, extending his arms for a hug. Marisol paused, then rushed into his embrace, squeezing him tightly.

Carlos held his daughter close, assuring her, "I'll always be by your side, Marisol. I'm not going anywhere." "You better stick to that," she retorted playfully. Carlos chuckled, loosening his grip. "Why don't you handle your business and then come back down for dinner?" Marisol nodded, "I'll serve myself though." With that, she turned on her heel and made her way upstairs.

Henry quickly flipped the channel to her bedroom.