You look at them, at their hands chained together like survival, and you answer with the only truth that doesn’t feel like a trick.
“I want you safe,” you say. “That’s all.”
Ravi’s lip trembles.
Luiz doesn’t move.
“You’ll send us back,” Luiz says, flat. “Everyone does.”
You shake your head.
“Not me,” you promise, and it scares you how badly you mean it.
The “things” they have fit into a torn plastic bag.
A cracked toy car missing wheels. A school notebook with half the pages ripped out. A single photo folded so many times it’s turned soft, showing a woman’s face blurred by age and sweat.
Ravi touches the photo like it burns.
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