And opened his arms / Writing Contest Continue the Tale. Part #1 [Eng-Esp]

Why did you betray me?, she wondered, as her fingers traced the outline of her son's face on the tiny screen and tears spilled copiously from her eyes.
At that moment, she didn't know how to react. She felt a knot in the center of his chest. It was as if someone had put a hand in there, grabbed her heart, and squeezed it so hard it didn't even hurt.
She breathed calmly.
She climbed down the wall and sat on the ground to write a note:
Son, no matter what anyone tells you about me. I will always be your mather and I will love you. Don't forget that.

She folded the paper and kissed it. A tear crumpled one of its corners, and she tried to keep it clean before carefully placing it in the shadow of the wall, with a flower on top and his phone as a paperweight so the wind wouldn't blow away the two details.
She stood up, tucked his shirt into his pants, and checked that everything was in order with his wardrobe.
She took a soft, steady, and deep breath. She wiped his face, climbed onto the wall, and opened his arms.
The phone started ringing. It was her son.

¿Por qué me traicionaste?, se preguntó, mientras sus dedos trazaban el contorno del rostro de su hijo en la pequeña pantalla y las lágrimas brotaban copiosamente de sus ojos.
En ese momento no supo cómo reaccionar. Sentía un nudo justo en el centro del pecho. Era como si alguien le introdujera una mano por ahí, le agarrara el corazón y se lo exprimiera a tal punto que ni siquiera dolía.
Respiró con calma.
Bajó del muro y se sentó en el suelo para escribir una nota:
Hijo, no importa lo que te digan sobre mí. Siempre seré tu madre y te amaré. No lo olvides.

Dobló el papel, lo besó. Una lágrima arrugó una de sus esquinas e intentó que no se ensuciara antes de colocarlo con sumo cuidado a la sombra del muro, con una flor encima y el teléfono a modo de pisapapel para que el viento no se llevara ambos detalles.
Se levantó, ajustó la camisa por dentro del pantalón y revisó que estuviera todo en orden con su vestuario.
Respiró de manera suave, pero sostenida y profunda. Se limpió el rostro, subió al muro y abrió los brazos.
El teléfono comenzó a sonar. Era su hijo.