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In the dimly lit hospital room of St. Mary's Hospital, New York City, the harsh glow of fluorescent lights cast an eerie pallor over the sterile surroundings. The room, though clinical in appearance, held an air of profound significance for the Rosales family.

 It was more than just a space; it was a cocoon, a sanctuary where laughter and whispered conversations harmonized with the incessant beeping of medical machines, forming a refuge from the harsh realities outside.

Lita sat on the edge of her brother Mateo's bed, their shared laughter a stark contrast to the somber atmosphere. The old movie, flickering on the small TV screen, served as a feeble attempt to escape their confined reality. 

Mateo's voice, as dry as if he'd been dehydrated for days, cut through the air. "Why do we have to watch this crap..." he complained, his arms crossed in defiance.

"Because? Don't tell me you don't like Labyrinth," Lita groaned, snuggling closer to him.

"It's weird," he retorted, a hint of annoyance in his tone.

"You're weird," she rolled her eyes, but they continued watching the movie. Mateo's snores were barely audible over the TV's soundtrack, blending with the low hum of medical equipment.

The sliding door was gently pulled open, revealing their father's concerned face. "Hey, Lita... how's he doing?" he asked, his voice laced with worry.

"He's okay... just a bit moody," she replied, her voice trying to mask her own concerns.

"He takes after his mother," he said, his tone light, trying to bring a semblance of normalcy into the room.

"He was asking for her today... is she coming?" Lita's words hung in the air, the unspoken fear etched in her eyes.

Her father shook his head, taking a seat near the bed, his eyes reflecting the weight of their situation. "Come on, mi tesoro, I don't want to watch this," he said, attempting to change the channel, but his eyes were caught by the name flashing across Lita's phone: "Maria."

A shadow clouded Lita's expression as she caught sight of the name. The tension in the room became palpable. He gave Lita a reassuring smile, then tossed the remote her way, his eyes conveying both love and apology. With that, he slid open the door, allowing a cascade of bright light to spill into the room, momentarily blinding them to the outside world.

But the light was quickly blocked as her father peeked in again. "Lita, your mother wants to talk to you."

"I don't want to talk to her..."

"Please..." he implored, his eyes filled with a mixture of weariness and hope.

"Fine," Lita said before getting up carefully, ensuring not to wake Mateo.

With an angry look, Lita snatched the phone from her father's hand, ignoring his warning glare, and held it up to her ear.

"Lita?" the voice on the other line spoke, carrying both familiarity and estrangement.

She let out a breath she was unaware she had been holding in. "I, uhm... yes."

"Mi estrella! I'm so glad to hear your voice," her mother's smile was evident through the phone, but it didn't reach her eyes.

Lita winced at that nickname. "What do you want?"

"I just wanted to talk to you... just, honey, how are you?" 

"Maybe you should ask Mateo how he's doing."

 "Honey, I know you're mad that I'm not there... but I have work, I can't just drop everything and leave—"

 "Yes, you can! You can't do this to him, Mom!"

"Lita! You cannot speak to me like that! I raised you; you don't get to treat me like dirt!" her mother yelled through the phone, her soft voice now gone.

"I'm sorry... I just don't understand... why–" A voice unknown to Lita broke through. "Maria, honey, who's on the phone?"

Her mother's boyfriend, Charlie, appeared to be an ordinary man. What her mother saw in him, she'd never comprehend. He held the position of chief of police in a small town named Forks, a place Lita had only visited a few times but one that seemed to be shrouded in an inexplicable sense of sorrow.

Maria had met Charlie shortly after her divorce from Lita's father when Lita was just eleven years old, and Mateo was barely five. Their paths had crossed at the local diner in town, and ever since, he had become a significant presence in their lives. 

Maria found employment as a vet near La Push, becoming an essential part of the community, all while residing with Charlie.

In the midst of this, Lita's father, Victor, found himself burdened with the role of sole caregiver. He was left to shoulder the weight of all the mounting hospital bills, receiving only a meager child support payment to assist with the financial strain.

 The responsibility weighed heavily on his shoulders, his love for his children the driving force behind his unwavering commitment.

"Great..." she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible.

"I- honey, I have to go. Talk to you later, okay? I love you, mija hija..." her mother's voice cracked with forced cheerfulness before the phone beeped, the call ending abruptly.

All Lita could do was be angry, but she wouldn't let it show. As she walked back into Mateo's hospital room, at the sight of his sleeping figure her anger had dissipated, replaced by a gnawing ache in her chest.

Her father looked away from the TV, concern etched on his face. He stood up upon seeing the look on her face. A sob escaped her lips, raw and unrestrained, as her father pulled her into a tight hug. She buried her face in her father's shirt, her tears leaving a stain.

"How come she doesn't want us anymore..." she choked out between sobs, her words heavy with heartbreak and confusion.