On my birthday they left me alone at home and went to Europe with my savings.

But when they returned, the house was no longer there to wait for them.

On the day I turned thirty-four, I woke up before dawn.

In Mexico there are not always big parties, but birthdays are sacred.

Even if there is only a cake from the supermarket, a cup of hot coffee and an “Las Mañanitas” sung out of tune.

I didn’t expect balloons.

Just a hug.

Solo feel that I matter.

I went into the kitchen and saw Mauricio closing a large suitcase on the table.

Not a small one.

The kind you pack when you don’t plan to come back anytime soon.

My mother-in-law, Doña Estela, was looking at her phone with a smile that was too radiant for that hour.

My sister-in-law, Fernanda, recorded stories for social networks:

“Beautiful family, ready to take off!”

I stayed in the doorframe.

“What’s going on?”

Mauricio spoke without looking at me.

“We’re leaving in an hour. Ten days. Europe.”

I felt the ground move under my feet.

“Are they leaving?”

Doña Estela sighed with false patience.

“Madrid, Barcelona… perhaps Paris. We deserve it.”