Maria-Isabel wiped her tears with the back of her trembling hand. Her voice was uneven, but there was a rhythm in her pain, a quiet resolve forged in the fires of survival.
"When I moved away from Salvador," she began, her voice low, "I only had a few crumpled bills in my wallet. Just enough to rent a small room—barely big enough for a mattress and a broken fan. I got a job at a bank, but I couldn't use my real name. I couldn't touch my money. Any trace of it would have led Daniel straight to me."
She paused and looked up, her eyes distant.
"My mother told me that my father and brothers already knew what I did. She said... If I ever showed my face back home, they'd kill me."
Ethan flinched at that. The idea of Maria being hunted by her own blood made his chest tighten.
"So I stayed hidden," she continued. "No help. No calls. Just... silence. It was hard."
She looked away again, tears slipping down like quiet raindrops.
