The quiet of the house in the middle of the afternoon was a rare blessing. Giulia had just left with her father — a quick trip to the bookstore to buy a new book for her school reading project. I had stayed behind by choice. I wanted to wash my hair without rushing, organize the week ahead, and most of all, call Brazil.
It had been a few days since my mother had sent any messages, which, in our case, was always a bad sign. Either she was overwhelmed with hospital shifts… or something had happened with my father.
I sat on the balcony sofa with my phone in my hands, legs crossed, my heart already beating too fast. I called. She answered on the third ring.
— Isa, sweetheart!
Her voice had that familiar warmth, but something in her tone felt hesitant. Mothers always know.
— Hi, Mom. Is ev
