He thought his employee was going to a warm house, but he found her sleeping on a bench in the rain. When he saw the three pale faces she was hiding under her coat, his life of luxury crumbled in an instant.

“Damn it!” Caio shouted, not at her, but at the universe, at his own blindness. He jumped to his feet. “Dad, keep her. I’ll bring the car right here.”

“No,” Geraldo interrupted, pointing to a bright green light on the street corner. “You stay with her. Keep her warm. I’ll go to the pharmacy. Right now.”

The old man, ignoring his cane and his arthritis pains, headed towards the pharmacy with a determination that Caio hadn’t seen in him for years.

Caio stood there in the rain, holding the umbrella over Livia. He took off his own jacket and wrapped it around the babies’ legs. For the first time in years, he wasn’t the untouchable businessman. He was just a man frightened by the fragility of life.

“I’m sorry, Livia,” he said, and the apology came from the very depths of his being. “I’m so sorry.”

Geraldo returned minutes later with bags full of supplies: formula, diapers, thermal blankets, and hot water he’d managed to get at the shop. Right there on the park bench, they prepared the baby bottles.