The first thing Emília noticed was the overpowering smell — a mix of sewage and fuel.

Before she could react, icy, filthy water crashed into her body, knocking the breath from her chest. In seconds, her pale blouse was soaked and stained a deep brown, spreading across her five-month-pregnant belly — the very place where a life was growing, a life doctors once told her would never exist.

For a moment, Emília stood frozen in shock. The grocery bags slipped from her fingers and burst open on the rain-slick street of Vila Madalena. Oranges rolled away. Packages split apart. Instinct took over, and she pressed both hands against her stomach, shielding her baby.

Then she heard it — the low growl of a powerful engine.

A large, glossy black SUV screeched to a halt beside her. The tinted window slid down slowly, revealing a face she could never forget, no matter how many years had passed.

Ricardo.

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