Ana Clara, who was hanging clothes on the clothesline, froze completely still. Her hands began to tremble.
I looked at her, confused.
« What was that? » I asked in a low voice.
She turned pale.
The pickup trucks stopped in front of our simple brick house. Two men in dark suits and sunglasses got out of the first one. An elegant woman, around fifty years old, wearing an impeccable tailored suit, got out of the second vehicle. Her posture commanded respect.
The whole town began to gather around, feigning innocent curiosity, but with gossip written all over their faces.
The elegant woman looked directly at Ana Clara.
And then he pronounced a name I had never heard before.
Isabela.
I felt the world stop for a second.
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