The hostel room was hot that evening. Luiz had opened both windows, but the air that crept in carried more dust than relief. His roommate was out chasing women, like always, and Luiz sat cross-legged on his mattress with a half-charged phone and a stomach that had been empty since morning.
The ringtone startled him. Unknown number.
He almost didn't pick — debt collectors, fake job promises, or relatives asking for money he didn't have. But something in him pressed accept.
"Hello?" His voice cracked.
For a moment there was only silence, then the faint echo of expensive heels on tiled floors, the soft hum of a background he could not place — too quiet, too refined for anywhere he had ever been.
A woman's voice, low and smooth, slid into his ear:"Luiz… you have two kids."
The phone nearly slipped from his hand.
"What? Who—who is this? Excuse me?!"
But the woman didn't answer his panic. Her breathing was calm, almost amused, like she was used to people being shocked around her.
"Listen—" Luiz stammered, "Who are you? What do you mean kids? My kids? That's not even—"
A soft chuckle came from her end. A chuckle that felt… expensive. A voice he swore he'd heard before, not in real life, but on radios, TVs, maybe music videos. The kind of voice that came from someone who had the world kneeling at her feet.
Then — click.
Call ended.
"Hallo? Hallo! Don't hang up!" Luiz sat up straight, his heart thumping. He dialed back. The line was off.
He stared at the dark screen, his reflection looking back at him: a broke first-year student with unwashed hair and a cracked phone cover. His lips trembled into a half-laugh.
"Two kids? Me? What is this, a Netflix prank show?"
But even as he laughed, his gut twisted. That voice. That confidence. Whoever she was, she wasn't joking.
And Luiz, for the first time in years, felt a cold tremor — one that whispered: Problem after problem, boy. You thought life was hard? It just got harder.