That’s Sonia Ruiz. She’s one of millions of Venezuelans fleeing economic collapse and oppression — and crossing over here into Colombia. We’re in the border town of Cúcuta, where there’s a tense standoff over the future of Venezuela. The anger is focused on humanitarian aid that the U.S. has sent and that Venezuela’s president, Nicolás Maduro, refuses to accept. It’s a standoff that could lead to a violent showdown. So, what happens next? First, a quick recap. Tensions started to build in early February, when convoys rushed U.S.-donated food supplies across Colombia to Venezuela, only to be blocked at the border. Maduro sent his troops to barricade the bridge and stop the aid from entering. But Juan Guaidó, who in January declared himself Venezuela’s rightful president, promised to get the aid through. Then, the United States backed Guaidó with more aid shipments, this time arriving on military planes. But the donated help is still stuck. It sits in a tightly guarded warehouse. Beans, oil, pasta, diapers — all packaged and heavily branded by a country that has sanctioned Maduro’s government “So in talking with people crossing the border, it’s amazing how many people travel hours to cross the border just for toilet paper.” And here’s the thing. It’s not that much aid, really. The basic foods here could feed maybe 100,000 people for one day. In a country of 30 million, it’s a drop in a bucket. But it’s enough to strike a nerve — and fuel dissent. There is a real crisis in Venezuela. We came to Cúcuta last year and saw thousands of people crossing this bridge on foot each day, looking for a job or even just a meal. Today, things appear to be worse. This food kitchen serves about 4,500 meals a day to migrants. Now, Guaidó has announced a hard deadline of Feb. 23 to get the aid across the border, even if it means carrying it over on foot. But all of that hinges on whether Maduro’s security forces will defy his orders and let the humanitarian aid in. It’s a tall order. This man knows. In January, Major Sergeant Harry Solano and dozens of his fellow officers revolted and declared their allegiance to Guaidó. Their videos went viral. And Solano has been fleeing from his life ever since. We met him on his first day here, in Cúcuta. A Venezuelan human rights group confirmed his case. It took Solano about two weeks to escape to Colombia, relying each step of the way, he said, on help from sympathetic soldiers. We sit with him in the lobby of the Casino Hotel Internacional. The hotel has become opposition central for mobilizing efforts to get the aid into Venezuela. Sergent Solono goes to a local U.N. office to apply for political asylum. We catch up with him later, as the lonely reality of his first night in exile sets in. The U.S. appears confident, too. Senator Marco Rubio has been the strongest advocate for Maduro’s ouster. “It’s not a one-time delivery. We’re not delivering a refrigerator. We’re delivering food. People have to eat every day.” President Trump urged Venezuelan generals to defect. “You must not follow Maduro’s orders to block humanitarian aid. And you must not threaten any form of violence against peaceful protest.” Guaidó offered Maduro’s officers amnesty. But Maduro has been cultivating loyalty among the military for years. He’s designated over 1,000 generals and given them lucrative ties to the state-owned oil company. For now, they’ve stood by him. We see Solano again, waiting in the hotel lobby. He’s received word from an undisclosed source about his family in Venezuela. Pushing the aid across is a gamble, one that could force a larger confrontation inside Venezuela. Perhaps that, in the end, is the point.