Thirteen years ago, a photo was taken that changed my life forever. In it, my baby daughter Sophia is holding onto me. She’s fifteen now, growing into a young woman. But that joyful day was marked by heartbreak—her mother, the love of my life, died giving birth. I never planned on being both mother and father, but from that day on, I embraced the role. Raising Sophia alone has been the hardest and most rewarding journey of my life. I focused on giving her love, structure,
and stability—sometimes being too strict, always trying to protect her. Love, for me, became a distant idea. Until recently, when Sophia fell for an immigrant boy named Maurizio. I saw it as a harmless teen romance—until one day, she forgot her phone at home. A message from him popped up,
