She lost everything and gave her last bill to a homeless man… without imagining who he was…
That Tuesday in Joinville, Lara left the building with a burning throat and an absurd certainty: the world had ended… and yet someone would still need her.

The reception area at the Vilar & Peixoto construction company was buzzing when the manager, Dalva, approached, her sly smile blazing. “You’re useless, Lara. You can’t even answer the phone.” Three clients heard. The security guard pretended not to see. “Grab your things and get out.” Her pen fell and rolled away, as if she were leaving too.

At the bank, the severance pay seemed substantial until it turned into bills: overdue rent, electricity to be cut off, water, internet. After paying what she could, she was left with a single crumpled bill: twenty reais. Twenty. For food, bus fare, resume, everything. At home, the empty refrigerator stared back at Lara like a mirror. She went outside to get some fresh air.

In the Old Market Square, a man with a gray beard, torn clothes, and trembling hands begged for bread. “Any small change.” People moved away, clutching bags, spitting on the ground. Lara recognized that look, the same one she had received minutes before. The man sat in the shade and gave up, as if learning to be invisible.

Lara opened her wallet, saw the lone bill, and felt her pride clash with hunger. Pride lost. She walked over to him and held out the money. “Buy real food.” The man blinked, as if it were a lie. “God bless you, young lady.” She simply nodded and walked away with her empty wallet.

Across the street, an executive stopped, pale. Henrique, in an impeccable suit, stared at the beggar with eyes full of guilt. This was no “just anyone.” It was Raimundo, his father, who had disappeared three years ago.

Days later, Lara was counting coins to buy bread when her cell phone rang. “It’s Henrique. I need to see you in the square. It’s about the man you helped.” She went, suspicious. Henrique explained: his father had sunk into gambling, embezzled money, destroyed his family, and disappeared. “I saw him that day, but I was paralyzed… and you did what I couldn’t: you treated him like a human being.”

Henrique offered her a job as a direct assistant, a decent salary, and a request: “Help me get close to him. He avoids me.” Lara took a deep breath. She needed the job, but she didn’t want revenge. “I’ll accept, if it’s to truly help.”

On Monday, she entered the tenth floor and Dalva almost choked when she saw her next to the owner’s office. Henrique demanded proof of the accusations, exposed the lies, and removed Dalva from management for training and monitoring by HR. Lara didn’t smile. She just went back to work.

That afternoon, she returned to the square with Henrique. Raimundo trembled at the sight of his son, but Lara held his hand. “He’s scared too,” she whispered. The hug was short but genuine, and it opened the way for treatment.

Three months later, Raimundo reappeared clean, his hair cut, his eyes clear. “I kept what you gave me as a sign: I could still come back.” He placed a brand-new twenty-real note in her hand. Lara cried, not from sadness, but from the prospect of a new beginning. That day, she understood: sometimes, the last note doesn’t just buy food. It buys a future.
“If you believe that no pain is greater than God’s promise, comment: I BELIEVE! And also say: which city are you watching us from?”