Kairos was not a common child. At eight years old, his circle of friends required him to engage in dialogues that went beyond his age. Sitting one summer afternoon, his friend Luzbel —a seventeen-year-old— played the melancholic guitar of Eros Ramazzotti: "Nada sin ti" (Nothing without you).

Luzbel told Kairos:

—Close your eyes, kid. Don't think about your mom, think about what you don't have, what you imagine will be... feel the song.

At that young age, love was only maternal, but the request to feel planted a seed. Love was painted in the images his mind captured, like the innocent passion of the "Lambada" or the exotic mystery of Madonna's "La Isla Bonita".

He remembered very well a phrase from that song, an infatuation that was sown:

"Someone knocks at the door, I’ll go see who it is. It's you, I can't believe it, don’t stay outside, come in. Take the keys to my house, you won’t leave here!"

The Half-Truth Ink (Ink in between) was beginning to be written.

Kairos’s life became the symphony of duality.

He had two daughters with different mothers, united by the number: 29. The first was Aura (born on August 29th); the second, Nova (born on June 29th). The symmetry of time would be revealed in 2026: Aura will be 25 (Kairos's age when Nova was born), and Nova will be 18 (Kairos's age when Aura was born).

Then came his two sons. The first was Ian (born on November 22nd), and the second, Elián (born on April 23rd). The sacred number 777 was anchored in the date Kairos shared with the mothers of his sons: July 25th.

Kairos's healing began with the memory of a moment in the hospital's silence with Elián, his youngest son (who passed away on March 7, 2018).

In the hospital, Elián and his father looked into each other's eyes, when a nurse exclaimed: "Excuse me, I will come back later so you can have your moment." In that sacred silence, Elián (age 4) raised his right hand and brought it to Kairos's chest, right over his heart. Not a word was needed to feel that moment to his very veins.

It was then that Kairos understood the truth his children had taught him:

Not always is a father the main part of the tree... Sometimes the children, like branches, become the root with their gestures, with their joys, with the way they see the world... Fulfilling an important role in changing the history lines of the tree.

Seven years into his healing journey, Kairos achieved the Conquest of 777. One morning, the kitchen became the setting for the closure:

And together we share in the kitchen, as in any other place... Just like this home. Where there is no medicine, like a daughter who can achieve everything. Because if there were holes in my soul before, now they are ready spaces, to forever be able to embrace you.

The final threshold appeared before the mother of his fiancée.

—Do you know how to cook, Kairos? —she asked him.

Omelettes, he thought. But the wisdom of his life reminded him of the lesson: it was not about the individual.

—I've learned to cook for myself —he replied—, but if there's anything I need to learn... I know I will.

He paused and shared the final truth:

—But it is not about what I can do, but what we can achieve together.

With that conviction, the Half-Truth Ink had dried up.

Kairos was not a common child. At eight years old, his circle of friends required him to engage in dialogues that went beyond his age. Sitting one summer afternoon, his friend Luzbel —a seventeen-year-old— played the melancholic guitar of Eros Ramazzotti: "Nada sin ti" (Nothing without you).

Luzbel told Kairos:

—Close your eyes, kid. Don't think about your mom, think about what you don't have, what you imagine will be... feel the song.

At that young age, love was only maternal, but the request to feel planted a seed. Love was painted in the images his mind captured, like the innocent passion of the "Lambada" or the exotic mystery of Madonna's "La Isla Bonita".

He remembered very well a phrase from that song, an infatuation that was sown:

"Someone knocks at the door, I’ll go see who it is. It's you, I can't believe it, don’t stay outside, come in. Take the keys to my house, you won’t leave here!"

The Half-Truth Ink (Ink in between) was beginning to be written.

Kairos’s life became the symphony of duality.

He had two daughters with different mothers, united by the number: 29. The first was Aura (born on August 29th); the second, Nova (born on June 29th). The symmetry of time would be revealed in 2026: Aura will be 25 (Kairos's age when Nova was born), and Nova will be 18 (Kairos's age when Aura was born).

Then came his two sons. The first was Ian (born on November 22nd), and the second, Elián (born on April 23rd). The sacred number 777 was anchored in the date Kairos shared with the mothers of his sons: July 25th.

Kairos's healing began with the memory of a moment in the hospital's silence with Elián, his youngest son (who passed away on March 7, 2018).

In the hospital, Elián and his father looked into each other's eyes, when a nurse exclaimed: "Excuse me, I will come back later so you can have your moment." In that sacred silence, Elián (age 4) raised his right hand and brought it to Kairos's chest, right over his heart. Not a word was needed to feel that moment to his very veins.

It was then that Kairos understood the truth his children had taught him:

Not always is a father the main part of the tree... Sometimes the children, like branches, become the root with their gestures, with their joys, with the way they see the world... Fulfilling an important role in changing the history lines of the tree.

Seven years into his healing journey, Kairos achieved the Conquest of 777. One morning, the kitchen became the setting for the closure:

And together we share in the kitchen, as in any other place... Just like this home. Where there is no medicine, like a daughter who can achieve everything. Because if there were holes in my soul before, now they are ready spaces, to forever be able to embrace you.

The final threshold appeared before the mother of his fiancée.

—Do you know how to cook, Kairos? —she asked him.

Omelettes, he thought. But the wisdom of his life reminded him of the lesson: it was not about the individual.

—I've learned to cook for myself —he replied—, but if there's anything I need to learn... I know I will.

He paused and shared the final truth:

—But it is not about what I can do, but what we can achieve together.

With that conviction, the Half-Truth Ink had dried up.