Alexander was the kind of man who always seemed impenetrable.
CEO of a major tech company in Salvador, accustomed to moving millions with a signature, owner of a penthouse overlooking the ocean, and a schedule packed down to the minute.
To the world, he was a success.
To himself, ever since losing his wife Helena three years earlier, he was just a machine that breathed.
He woke every day at five, reviewed reports before touching his coffee, and buried himself in work as if sinking into a pit with no bottom. The more he worked, the less space there was for the memory of the woman he couldn’t save.
That scorching December morning, the heat sat over Salvador like a heavy cloud. Alexander walked along Avenida do Sol after meeting with foreign investors. Any other businessman would’ve celebrated. He didn’t. Numbers couldn’t drown out the silence of his home.
Vendors shouted, tourists took photos, workers crossed the streets with lunch bags. Noise everywhere. Yet Alexander felt like a ghost watching someone else’s world.
Until he heard crying.