The sun sank low, casting long shadows across the dirt road as Joaquin trudged home, each step heavy with a mixture of loss and determination. Just hours earlier, he had said goodbye to Marco, feeling a flicker of hope ignite within him. But as the reality of his life settled back in, cold and unyielding, he was left with the haunting reminder of his mother’s absence and the fractured bond with his father. He had to change. He had to make things better for himself and, somehow, for his father too. As he pushed open the creaking door of their small wooden house, the familiar scent of dust and decay wrapped around him like a shroud. Dim light filtered through grimy windows, illuminating the disarray of the living space. Shadows clung to the corners, where cobwebs danced in the faint breeze, reminiscent of the tangled threads of their fractured lives. The kitchen was bare, the cupboard doors creaking in protest as he opened them, revealing a few mismatched pots and the bottom of an...