Chapter 23

Emily

I stared at the plate of eggs and coffee in front of me, another reminder of this town.

I was still trying to process everything Marcos had told me. He did what he thought was best at the time, and if he’d known the consequences, maybe he would’ve acted differently.

But I needed to focus on the present and the options we had now. Our lives had changed so much. Marcos had a family and was finally happy. He’d moved on, and I needed to do the same. I had to leave him behind, especially now that we’d cleared up what really happened.

Sara was right—I needed to start fighting for what I wanted, and helping my dad had to be my focus now.

I swallowed my food while planning my next steps. My dad needed help, and I knew he wouldn’t accept mine willingly, but there was one person he’d listen to.

“Pastor Lucas,” I murmured, calling out to the plump little man with kind brown eyes.

He turned with a surprised look and flashed a big smile. I wanted to throw myself into his arms and hide there until all the mess went back to normal.

“Little Maria,” he said, his voice muffled by his big mustache. Ever since we performed Jesus’ birth at the town’s small church, he’d called me that, but only when I did something extraordinary or terribly wrong. “Come here, child, let me look at you.”

I approached cautiously, unsure of what sermon was coming, though I was prepared for anything after my dad’s shouts and accusations.

“How are you, sir?” I asked as he held my face, inspecting my eyes as if he could uncover anything by doing so.

“How are *you*, dear? It’s been so long since I’ve heard from you.” He pulled me to sit on a bench. “I heard you’ve been back for a few days. I thought you’d leave without seeing me, young lady,” he chattered, holding my hands in a comforting way.

“I didn’t plan to stay this long. Honestly, nothing that’s happened was in my plans,” I murmured, staring at our hands, trying to stay strong and not break into tears.

“And now, what are your plans?” That was the question I didn’t have an answer for. “Know that I’ll help you with whatever you need. Everyone in this town would do anything to help you, dear,” he continued, sensing my hesitation.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what I’ll do. My dad doesn’t want to leave with me. He told me to stay or run again. Marcos wants to help, and to top it off, I found out the reason I hated him was just a act to protect me and take care of Bianca.” I spilled everything that had been driving me crazy. “I don’t know what to do next, what steps to take,” I whimpered, letting the few tears I had left roll down my face. “I need help.”

Pastor Lucas pulled a strategic handkerchief from his pocket, wiped my tears, and smiled gently.

“Your dad won’t leave this town, dear. His life is here—his friends, his memories. If you want to help him, do it here.” I took a deep breath, facing what I really had to do. “Let us help you, child. Let Marcos help. Let your friends be part of your life again. Let’s be your family again. What do you say?”

I nodded, agreeing. He was right. It was time to burst the bubble I’d put myself in all these years and share my life with these people again. That was the way to help my dad and heal from all the pain and suffering. I was tired of fighting against the tide.

Still holding my hands, Pastor Lucas said a quick prayer, thanking God for my return and asking for strength to rediscover life’s joy with my loved ones.

I hugged him the way I wanted to hug my dad, finding in him the comfort I wished to feel in my old man’s arms. But right now, it was my dad who needed comfort, love, and care.

I left there revitalized and determined. Tomorrow, I’d go to the neighboring town to check out the support group Pastor Lucas recommended and take my dad. Every day he needed me, I’d be by his side, offering support, strength, and love.

I got in the car, ready to go home and have a new conversation with him. Things would be different from now on.

But before I could leave downtown, that old junker of a car started breaking down. That’s what you get when a car hasn’t been serviced in years.

The heap stopped before I reached Mr. Silva’s shop. Furious, I got out, yelling and kicking the door. I was just a few meters away, for God’s sake.

“Need some help there?” Pedro poked his head out of his car.

“You’re still around?” I muttered, startled to see even he hadn’t vanished from town.

“Looks like it,” he said, getting out and coming to check my car. “How you doing, Emily?” I was shocked he remembered my name after all this time. “Let me see what we’ve got here.” He lifted the hood to take a look.

“You still work with Mr. Silva?” I asked, glancing at the closed shop a few meters ahead.

“Nah, the shop’s Marcos’ now, but I still work there,” he said bluntly, and the information threw me off. “This thing’s in bad shape. It’ll take all night to fix. Honestly, it’s best to check everything to make sure it doesn’t leave you stranded again. Your dad hasn’t used this car in forever.”

I just nodded, still confused about how Marcos could’ve bought the shop. It was already shocking enough that he was part-owner of the club, and now this.

“Well, help me push it to the shop, and you can take our car home,” Pedro continued when he saw I was speechless.

The shop’s car was actually a tow truck, but it was what I had to get home. And only on the condition that I’d call Marcos to pick it up.

I got home ready to face the beast and say everything he needed to hear.

“So you decided to stick around,” he muttered when he heard me close the door. His slouched posture on the couch showed how tired he was. “Were you with Marcos? Gonna pick up your old life or just playing with us?”

I walked slowly to sit beside him on the couch. His eyes were lost beyond the closed windows, as if stuck in his memories. He was sober—this would be the most honest conversation we’d have, and I was sure he’d remember it tomorrow.

“Yes, I decided to stay. I wasn’t with Marcos, but I saw him this afternoon at the club,” I explained, sitting cautiously. “About my old life, I’m starting to resolve a lot of things that were left undone, but the most important thing to me in this town is you, Dad.”

“Don’t start, Emily,” he said, pulling away, as if my words hurt him.

“I know it’s hard to believe and trust me, Dad, but I need you to. You have to get better, you need to recover, and that’s why I’m here.”

“I don’t need anything. The only thing I needed was your mom, who, unlike you, didn’t have a choice when she abandoned everyone she loved,” he roared, his eyes brimming with tears.

“You don’t know how much I’ve regretted it, all these years. Not a day went by that I didn’t miss you both,” I cried, speaking the truth. “I had to leave, you have to understand. It wasn’t an easy choice to stay in São Paulo and not come back. It cost me everything. It cost me you, Dad!”

Silence filled the room as he sniffled, still staring at the window in a daze. I wanted to hug him and say I’d never leave again.

“You’ll end up leaving again, like last time. I won’t get my hopes up with you, Emily,” he said before I could touch him. “Stay as long as you need—the house is yours—but don’t be so cruel. Spare your friends the suffering. Especially Marcos. He never moved on after you,” he confided softly, still not looking at me. “Don’t give him false hope.”

“I’m not giving anyone hope. I’m telling you the truth when I say I won’t leave your side,” I explained desperately, not wanting to talk about Marcos now but about his health. “I saw Pastor Lucas today. He recommended a clinic in the next town. You won’t even have to go far.”

“Now you want to dump me in a hospital and throw away the key?” he shouted, standing up, completely losing it. “If you think you’re doing that, you’d better leave, because I’d rather die and find your mom than be locked up in some damn clinic.”

I was shocked at how he saw me now. Leaving without explanation and never coming back had hurt him in ways I never imagined.

“I didn’t say that. I’ll be with you,” I tried to reason, to make him listen. “Just hear me out, please.”

“No, I won’t listen!” he continued, already halfway to his room. “I shouldn’t have let you go. I gave you freedom, and you destroyed everyone around you without caring. That’s what you do—make decisions without caring about anyone else.” Those were his final words before slamming and locking his bedroom door.

I sat on that tattered couch, staring at the window, breathing deeply. I wanted to barge into his room and make him swallow all the suffering I’d been through, as if it justified my isolation, but it still wouldn’t excuse shutting everyone out because of Marcos. I suffered more knowing now that Marcos did it all for my sake, to give me a future away from him and his problems.