Marina had a good family.

Everyone said so. The neighbors said so. Her friends said so. Marina said so too.

Every Sunday, the family had lunch at her parents' house in Campinas. Her mother, Tereza, made too much food. Her father, Antônio, opened the gate and said, "My girl is home."

Her sister, Duda, always arrived late. With a new story, a new boyfriend, a new diet.

At the table, her father raised his glass. He said the words he always said:

"Family is everything."

Everyone drank. Everyone smiled.

Marina was thirty-one. She was a teacher. She loved her students, her small apartment, her quiet life.

And she loved those Sunday lunches.

Marina loved her life. But she did not know one thing.

Her life was a story. And other people wrote it.