I traveled with my siblings, Mel and Gui, the youngest. The three of us left the airport with suitcases in hand and smiles full of emotion. We believed that Mom would be surprised, that she would be stronger, calmer, maybe even happier. We laughed without any doubt in our hearts.

I traveled with my siblings, Mel and Gui, the youngest. The three of us left the airport with suitcases in our hands and smiles full of excitement. We believed Mom would be surprised, that she would be stronger, calmer, maybe even happier. We laughed without a single doubt in our hearts.

I will never forget the heat of that day. It was as if the sky wanted to remind me how long I had been away. Three years, five years, thousands of video calls and thousands of dollars sent, and even so I believed that was enough to say I had been a good son.

My name is Rafael. I’m thirty-five years old and an engineer in Dubai. I’m used to the desert, to steel, to precise schedules and cold numbers. But nothing—absolutely nothing—prepared me for that day.

For five years, we sent money almost every month. I sent about eight thousand reais. Mel sent between five and ten thousand. Gui did too, always on time. Bonuses, extras, everything we could. In my mind, Mom lived comfortably, with a decent house, enough food, and no worries. That’s what I believed.