Teo Sacks wasn’t like any other kid. His destiny was grand—written in the stars.

  His father had gone to work at the docks, leaving Teo to look after his little sister, Steffi. She was a beautiful girl with blue eyes and rosy cheeks, five years old, four years younger than Teo. Her full name was Estefanía Sacks, but when Teo was just a toddler, he had struggled with it and called her “Stefía.” To his delight, their parents had then started calling her “Steffi,” too.

  “Where’s Mom, Dad?” Teo would ask at night as he was getting ready for bed.

  Dante Sacks would reply melancholically, “Mom’s close, Teo. She’ll come back one day… I promise.”

  The promise tore him apart, because he knew it wasn’t true.

  His mother had been a dancer at a notorious strip club. Dante had fallen madly in love with her, and they had started a family. But one night, she tricked an old man with more money than sense and ran off with him. They never heard from her again. Still, Dante refused to let his children grow up bitter toward their mother, so he hid the truth.

  They rented a small room in an old house in the Palermo neighborhood. Their eighty-year-old landlady, Mrs. Elvira, was a bitter and demanding pensioner who would not forgive even a single day’s late rent. There were months when, just to keep their room, the Sacks went without food for three or four days. Dante suffered, and sometimes Teo would see him cry.

  One night, Teo went to him, stroked his hair, and told him everything would be alright. He gave Steffi his own portion of food because he knew he could endure hunger a little longer.

  “We have each other, Dad,” Teo told him. “As long as we’re together, I don’t feel hungry.”

  Dante looked into his eyes and saw the strength of his soul. He took him by the shoulders, kissed his cheek, and then rushed out into the street. An hour later, he returned with a bag of sweet potatoes. Using the last drops of oil from their small cupboard, he fried them and fed them to the children.

  Years later, Teo would remember that meal as the greatest act of love he had ever received.

  Teo was a small, gentle boy with a pleasant voice and a kind expression. He had black hair and honey-colored eyes. His hands were long and graceful, though roughened by work. Dante could not afford his children’s education; he barely had enough for rent and food, and sometimes not even that. So little Teo, determined that Steffi would not miss a year of school, got a job as a carpenter’s apprentice at Mr. Piero’s shop.

  Piero Della Francesca, an Italian soldier who had deserted from the Axis forces, escaped to France and later made his way to Argentina, arriving in the mid-1940s. His son, Marco, ran the business, as the old man himself liked to say his “bones were as dusty as sawdust.”

  Piero enjoyed talking for hours with the boy, telling him about his adventures. Once he told him about being on the battlefield and seeing his friend Paolo die beside him—an English bullet had found him in the makeshift trenches.

  On certain nights, Paolo’s gaze would float in the air, and he would moan. Piero would have given anything to see him again and tell him it wasn’t his fault, that none of it should have happened. That they should never have been in those trenches, on that battlefield, in that war. Yet he still wanted to apologize.

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  “It would be beautiful if there were a place where we could find our dead again,” Mr. Piero said. “But here on Earth, not in Heaven, where nothing can be proven once you’re dead!”

  Teo realized he had never really thought about death before. For him, there was only life, with the green of the trees and the blue of the sky. But the idea of a void worried him. He would probably forget about it later: his mother had not died, yet neither he nor Steffi knew anything about her. He wondered if this was what Mr. Piero’s longing for his friend Paolo felt like.

  That morning, he got up early and made breakfast for his sister: toast with butter and peach jam, a small treat he had saved up for. He spread the butter on the hot bread and took the steaming kettle off the stove. Then he poured hot water into the mate cup and set everything on the table.

  Dante had left an hour earlier for the docks with barely a piece of yesterday’s bread in his stomach.

  Teo nudged Steffi in bed, and she opened her sleepy eyes. The blue of her eyes spilled softly onto her cheeks as a ray of sunlight slipped through the corner of the window. She was bundled up to her nose, as it was winter and very cold.

  “You have to get up, Steffi,” the boy whispered in his sister’s ear. “Today’s your first day of preschool, and you shouldn’t be late.”

  Steffi got up sleepily, stumbling around. They both laughed when Teo told her she looked like a blind rooster.

  When the girl saw the table set, she turned to her brother with a smile that lit up her whole face. She began jumping happily from side to side like a little kangaroo and kissed him on the cheek.

  She ate with relish, her eyes shining and no longer sleepy. Peach jam was her favorite food, she said, and Teo was glad.

  “Where’s Dad?” the girl asked, seeing they were alone. “Why isn’t he eating toast with us?”

  “Dad’s at the docks, Steffi,” Teo explained. “He has to go to the docks so you can eat peach jam.”

  The girl nodded.

  Although the peach jam was his treat, Teo wanted Steffi to appreciate the effort their father made every day. He knew Dante was often tired, and sometimes even sick. Yet every morning at five o’clock he got up and went to work, rain or shine.

  It was true that Teo also worked at Mr. Piero’s carpentry shop, but the old man was good to him and often offered him lunch while telling his stories. Besides, he treated him with affection and listened to everything Teo had to say. Once, he asked him if he could keep a secret and confessed that he loved him more than his own grandchildren—Marco’s children—because Teo treated him with kindness and never made fun of his adventures.

  Steffi finished breakfast, and her brother helped her bundle up. She had so many layers of clothing on that she looked like a snowman.

  Dante had bought her cute little shoes for her first day of school—he had found them at a great price. When Steffi saw them, she stood there amazed and breathless.

  “Dad bought them,” Teo said, amused by his sister’s surprised expression. “They’re for you…”

  Steffi approached them cautiously, as if the mirage might break if she walked too fast. But the mirage did not break: the shoes were real.

  She had not had such pretty shoes in a long time. Her sneakers were worn out, and some even had holes where her toes poked through.

  “They’re for me?” the girl repeated incredulously. “Really?”

  “Really,” her brother replied, smiling.

  Steffi did not know whether to hug him, put on her shoes, or jump for joy like a kangaroo again. So she did it all at once, in a radiant burst of happiness that delighted Teo.

  “Thank you, Teo! Thank you!” the girl repeated, jumping. “Thanks to Dad! They’re so beautiful!”

  “You can thank him yourself when he gets home,” the boy said. “Now come on, it’s getting late. You’re going to love your new school!”

  The girl grabbed his hand, and together they stepped into the soft morning light. The sun cut through the cold, painting the small room in golden streaks, while the faint winter wind rattled the windowpanes.

  For a moment, everything felt warm and ordinary, as if the world had paused for them. A rare gift in the midst of their otherwise hard, unpredictable lives.

  Teo did not know it yet, but far beyond the horizon, clouds of destiny were gathering. A storm that would change everything was quietly approaching, waiting for the right moment to strike.

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