“I’m going to miss you, Aunt Flávia.”

Flávia sighed.

“If I asked you for one thing… would you do it for me?”

“Of course, Aunt Flávia. Do you want me to play a song?” He glanced at the guitar resting on the bench.

“Actually… I want you to say something to me.”

“What?”

“You always call me ‘aunt’… but… I’m not your aunt.”

“Don’t be mad… I won’t call you that anymore.” His brow furrowed, suddenly worried.

A chill ran through me, and anger started ...