At home, Andrea watches her daughter in silence, her heart heavy.

Catarina looks beautiful.

But there's something in her eyes that worries her.

A quiet sadness.

Almost imperceptible.

The kind only a mother can see.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” Andrea says, trying to sound cheerful.

“Thank you, Mom,” Catarina replies, forcing a smile as she picks up the small purse from the dresser.

“Come on, then. We'd better get going. The bus won't wait for us,” Andrea urges, grabbing her own handbag.

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