“Joaquim must be losing his mind.”

The laughter spread across the square.

One farmer slapped another on the shoulder.

“Seven cents for that woman? You’d have to pay me to take her.”

Another called out:

“Maybe she’ll eat the whole harvest!”

More laughter.

Joaquim didn’t answer.

He simply counted the coins into the auctioneer’s waiting hand.

Then he looked at Benedita.

For the first time that morning, she looked directly at him.

Her eyes were not angry.

They were tired.

Not the tiredness of someone who had worked a long day.

It was the exhaustion of someone who had stopped believing that tomorrow could be different.

Joaquim knew that look.

He had seen it in his own mirror.

He turned toward the road.

“Come.”

Benedita didn’t move.

The auctioneer grabbed her arm.

“Go with your new master.”

Joaquim’s expression hardened.

“Don’t touch her.”

The auctioneer stared at him.

“She belongs to you now.”

Joaquim looked at Benedita again.

“No,” he said quietly.

“She comes with me.”

It was a small difference in words.

But Benedita noticed.

And so did one other person standing at the edge of the crowd.

An elderly Black woman named Rosa.

She had been watching Benedita since the auction began.

As Joaquim and Benedita walked away, Rosa whispered something that nobody else heard.

“Girl…”

Benedita stopped.

Rosa’s eyes filled with tears.

“Don’t forget who you are.”

Benedita looked at her for several seconds.

Then she continued walking.