The glowing windows, the soaked trees, the scent of wet soil—everything felt far away to someone who only wanted to reach a place that could be called home.
But Lucas Moreira didn’t have that. There was no home, only polished walls, postponed meetings, and children who were a mystery to everyone—and to him, a silence that ached. He crossed the stone driveway gripping his leather briefcase close.
When he opened the villa door, cold air rushed over him. The marble floors gleamed, and the lights, controlled by the system, turned on by themselves.
The silence felt heavier than the night before. He stood still for a moment, listening to the echo of his own steps. But this story doesn’t start with him. It starts with a woman who, at that very moment, walked down the street holding a bent umbrella and a worn backpack.
Clara Nogueira inhaled deeply as she passed the security booth. Her modest uniform was damp, rain clinging to her hastily tied hair.
“Are you the new caregiver?” the guard asked.
She smiled briefly, a tired smile. “Yes. Clara. I’m here to see Dr. Lucas.”