On the other side, the city continued as if nothing had happened, as if the family were being torn apart from within. Before you share, I offer you a sincere invitation. If you already have something in your heart, subscribe to the channel, activate the campaign and leave your “like” because this story is based on events that happen more often than we think and it will touch your hearts.

And if you’ve ever seen someone pay dearly for justice, write the word “justice” in the comments. Now, let’s talk. We walked for more than an hour through the streets of the center, carrying a backpack with clothes and important papers. No one offered help, no one asked, no one cared. Magdalepa didn’t know where to go. Her mother’s house was abandoned. Her friends gathered around. He became rich. No one was left.

“Are we going to sleep on the street, Mom?” Camila asked. Magdalea looked at her, excited to laugh. “Of course we are, my love. We’re going to find work.” He was scared; he didn’t know where to go. Until, in the midst of despair, he remembered a man: Damiá López. An old friend, an impossible love from the past, someone who had never hurt her. They arrived at the simple street of Tlaqepaque. The houses were modest.

The lights gathered in front of the rusty iron gate. Magdalepa stopped. She knocked. She knocked again. A rocky voice answered from inside. “Who am I, Magdalepa?” The door opened slowly. Damiap, with his old, stone-stained shirt and his surprised face, didn’t say anything at first.