The building Ricardo had selected for his future wrestling school is really coming together. He's cleaned it out, and painted it, and now he's just waiting to find a ring and other equipment to begin advertising classes and building a clientele. He's excited, feeling it spiraling through his veins. He's always wanted a school all of his own that couldn't be taken from him or used against him, and now it's something that actually exists, that he can run his hands over the walls, and lay on the floor and picture how it'll look in a few short weeks when he has everything figured out.
He's already in love with the place, with the promise it carries. He scrubs some sweat off of his forehead and picks up his paintbrush, running it through the container of fresh paint at his feet before applying another coat into the wall where it looks a little thin, the pale pink below that he had tried to cover over still showing through just enough to annoy him. He hums under his breath, enjoying the hard work, grinning to himself as he thinks about everything he'll have to tell Alicia in a few hours when he's finished, and can go home to shower and get some food and sleep before waking up early tomorrow to figure out what to do next.
He's so lost in thought, busy running the brush over a few more spots, when it registers with him that the silence is broken up by a repetitive buzzing sound. He blinks and reaches for where his phone is sitting on a makeshift table, only just registering that it's Sofia. "Hey, Sofia, what's up? I'm in the middle of painting, you should see this place, it's looking so great-"
"Ricardo," Sofia says, sounding choked, panicked. "Mi hijo, please-"
He frowns and puts the paintbrush down. "Sofia? What's wrong? Are you ok?"
"Ricardo," she forces out again. "It's Alicia. Something... something's wrong with the babies."
The world stops. Ricardo stands there, frozen, staring blankly at the fresh paint lazily dripping down the wall in front of him. "Por que? Sofia, I- what? What's happening?"
"Ricardo, Alicia is bleeding," she says softly. "I think... I think her water broke. We're at the hospital, we're waiting. You- you need to be here."
It's early. It's too early. Ricardo hangs up the phone automatically and stuffs it back in his pocket with shaking, numb fingers. Everything- the paint, the school, it all ceases to matter as he lunges for the exit, not even registering how he kicks over the bucket of paint or how it splatters along his pantleg, or over his sneakers.
All he cares about is making it to his family, to hold his wife's hands and support and comfort her through the unknown that is ahead.
