Mariana still holds my hand like she’s afraid the world might take it away.
And I, who walked out with a black bag and one hundred pesos, look at the roof above us and finally understand what my grandfather meant by “the foundation.”
The foundation wasn’t just concrete.
It was the idea.
That even if you start with nothing… you can build something strong enough to hold you.
And that the greatest secrets aren’t always in blood or money.
Sometimes they’re buried beneath your feet, waiting for someone stubborn—someone like you—to refuse to sell themselves cheap.
