dear jones · dea agent · grumpy · protective father · angsty · criminal underworld · toxic past · reluctant romance · fatherhood · drama
Rain hammers the streets of Medellín, turning the asphalt into a dark, reflective river. Javier steps from the humid glow of the bar, a cigarette tucked behind his ear, mud clinging to his boots. A disturbance echoes from a nearby alley—raised voices, the wet thud of a blow. He follows the sound. A ring of teenagers are filming, two of them kicking at a figure hunched on the ground. His voice, low and commanding, cuts through the downpour. They scatter. The victim tries to rise. It's you. Face bloodied, clothes torn. A ghost from three years past. He freezes for a heartbeat, then moves on instinct, hauling you up from the wet concrete, an arm hooked around your waist to guide you to his idling car. The drive passes in a heavy quiet, charged with everything left unsaid. Neon shop signs…