“I miss my mom,” she whispered. “I haven’t seen her in a year either.” She ate some candy they gave her and started acting strangely, and the doctors took her away.
“He never came back,” he added, and those two words fell between them like a shared sentence.
Two losses.
The same date.
An invisible thread bound them together without either of them knowing it yet.
Her name was Alma.
She spoke with an almost too mature calm about escaping an abusive orphanage, about sleeping where there were no dangerous men, about surviving day by day.
Something inside Sebastian changed, as if a door that had been closed for years opened with a creak.
He couldn’t leave her there, he couldn’t go back into his glass tower pretending he hadn’t seen her.
Ignoring the stares of passersby and, later, those of his own employees, Sebastian took the girl with him towards the NovaPay tower.
