It was 3:07 in the afternoon on Tuesday, November 19, when Rodrigo Navarro quietly eased open the back door of his home in San José del Cabo.
He avoided the front entrance on purpose. He wanted the moment to be pure—to wrap his arms around his daughter, breathe in the scent of home, and finally feel the long assignment was finished.
Rodrigo had been scheduled to remain in Dubai for another two months, supervising the construction of a luxury hotel. But the project was unexpectedly halted, and instead of announcing his return, he chose to come home two weeks early, unannounced. He imagined the sound he missed most: the delighted shriek only his eight-year-old daughter, Valentina, made when she saw him.
The words struck him like a blow. Rodrigo froze in the doorway, his briefcase hanging uselessly from his hand, his chest tightening as if the air had been knocked out of him.
In the backyard, beneath the unforgiving Baja California sun, Valentina struggled to drag two massive garbage bags. They were so heavy she had to stop every few steps and haul them forward with all her strength. She wore a pink dress—one he had bought her before leaving—now ripped at the hem, smeared with dirt and spoiled food. Her white shoes were caked with mud. Her hair, usually braided with care, was tangled and grimy.
But none of that hurt him as deeply as her expression.
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