You hear a child’s voice first, bright and careless like sunlight that doesn’t know it’s entering a storm.
“Daddy!” Sofía calls, and her little shoes patter across the expensive floor you used to own with confidence.
She stops mid-run, as if the house itself shifted under her feet.
Her eyes lock on you sprawled on the marble, and you see fear bloom where innocence used to live.
Your throat tightens with something worse than pain—shame, raw and immediate.
Then Marina Oliveira steps in, and she doesn’t freeze the way everyone else does.
She moves like she’s seen emergencies before, like she’s learned not to waste seconds on shock.
She drops to her knees beside you, and the world narrows to the calm in her face.