My name is Braian Vieira. I'm thirty-five years old, a cyber technology specialist, and I work as an Interpol agent in Washington. Working here wasn't a plan. It was an escape. Ten years ago, I left everything behind. Or rather... everything that was left.
I'm good at what I do. Hackers, hacked systems, digital tracking — that's my territory. I can decipher complex codes in minutes, track someone with a single IP, and take down entire servers with just a few commands. But as much as I dominate the virtual world, I can't control what I feel whenever I close my eyes and go back to that day.
That damn day.
Today the office was quieter than usual. The air felt heavy, as if something was about to happen. The keyboards typed more softly, almost like a whisper in the emptiness. Sitting at my desk, among screens, cables, and code, I reviewed a report on a group of data traffickers who were moving sensitive information in South America. It was routine, a dangerous routine — but one that kept me from thinking about myself.
Until my cell phone vibrated.
Notification: Urgent Meeting – Room 7. Interpol Global.
I frowned. Urgent meetings are usually not a good sign.
"Hey, going to put on a show in the boss's room?" joked Clarice, my partner and best friend, with a mug of coffee in her hand and her hair tied in a messy bun.
I smiled wryly, trying to hide my discomfort.
"Or I'm going to get called in to screw up nicely, as always."
"You love it, Braian," she rolled her eyes, sitting on the edge of my desk. "The day they put you on vacation, you'll freak out. By the way, it's been about three years since you promised to travel with me somewhere without internet. You never keep your promises."
"A hacker addicted to networks without internet? I'd rather have a suicide mission."
She laughed. A light sound that for a moment made me forget the tension. But it was only for a short time.
I got up, grabbed my tablet, and headed to that room. On the way, the corridors seemed longer. Each of my steps echoed uncomfortably. Inside, two directors were waiting for me. A screen with encrypted graphics flickered softly, while folders with red seals were scattered on the table. The atmosphere was serious. Almost too tense.
"We have a mission for you," began the older one, with a grave expression. "Brazil. Operation in partnership with the Federal Police. Involves data trafficking and possible links with internal federal agents."
Brazil.
My heart skipped a beat in my chest. An offbeat rhythm.
Brazil.
On the outside, I kept my composure. Cold. Professional. On the inside, my world was reeling.
"When do I leave?"
"In three days. You will be responsible for the technological part of the operation. We are already tracking the group's movements, but the network is sophisticated. We believe there is involvement with an even larger organization, which may be operating in several countries, including here."
I nodded. Nothing on my face betrayed the storm tearing me apart inside.
I went back to my room in silence. Clarice followed me, quick steps behind me. She knew me too well to let it go.
"So?" she asked, crossing her arms as she leaned against the table.
"I'm going to Brazil."
She raised her eyebrows. Not... not in surprise. But in concern. She always knew what that name meant to me.
"Braian…"
"I'm fine. It's just another mission."
"It's the country where he…"
"I know."
Silence.
She approached, touching my arm gently. The right touch, at the right time.
"You don't have to be strong all the time, you know? It's been ten years."
Ten years since I lost Luiz. Since that accident. Since I saw my life turn to dust.
"Sometimes I think if I had gone after him…" my voice faltered for a second. "Maybe…"
"Braian." Clarice interrupted me, firmly, but gently. "You did what you could with what you knew. With what you felt. And you had the right to run away. But maybe now…"
"Maybe now it's time to face the past," I completed, with a bitter little smile. "Or maybe it will swallow me alive."
She squeezed my hand, firmly.
"Then I'll be here when you come back. Whole or in pieces."
I smiled, this time sincerely. Because that's what Clarice was. My safe haven since I left everything behind.
That night, I stayed up late reviewing case files. Maps, suspicious profiles, bank transactions. But my mind wandered.
Images I was trying to forget came to the surface. The sound of his laughter. The way he said my name, always with irony and sweetness mixed. The warm touch, the urgent kiss. The sleepless nights. The promises whispered between sheets and secrets.
And the accident.
Going back to Brazil was like opening a chest sealed with too much pain, love, and memories.
But I would go.
And something told me that the past was about to collide with the present.
The apartment was dark, silent. Only the city light entered through the high windows, painting soft lines on the wooden floor. There was a smell of electronics and loneliness in the air.
I threw my jacket on the sofa, dropped my cell phone on the kitchen counter, and went straight to my room, feeling each step as an echo of what I left behind.
I was still agitated after the news.
Brazil.
Luiz.
I sighed deeply, trying to ignore the familiar tightness in my chest. But in that silence... it was impossible.
I opened the closet door and reached for a cardboard box on the top shelf. It was old, worn, with "Things I shouldn't touch" handwritten on the side. I smiled humorlessly. I've always been ironic with my own feelings.
I sat on the edge of the bed and opened the lid slowly. Inside, pieces of a time I tried to erase. Old letters, movie tickets, a broken keychain in the shape of a lightning bolt... And then, there it was.
The photo.
The only one that survived that time.
Me and Luiz. Sitting on the grass of some university, him in sunglasses, looking at me with that lazy and charming smile. I had my arm around his waist, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
And it was.
That's what we were. Natural. Intense. Inseparable.
Until we weren't anymore.
"You still live in me, you know?" I murmured, looking at that face frozen in time. "As much as I try to move on... no one has ever been you."
The cell phone vibrated in the kitchen. I didn't go see. Nothing mattered now except that memory. I lowered my head, rested my forehead on the frame of the photo, and closed my eyes.
How could I survive losing you?
I stayed like that for a few minutes, in absolute silence. Only the sound of my heart and heavy breathing. Until something inside me moved. A kind of strange agitation, as if an invisible thread had been pulled.
Brazil.
Something told me that this trip was not just a mission.
It was a reunion.
Even if with ghosts.
Or maybe...
Maybe with something I thought was dead.
But that, deep down, never stopped breathing inside me.
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