Elisa spent the entire morning in the kitchen with the housekeeper, Mrs. Célia, a friendly lady who had worked with the Castro family for more than ten years. With a linen apron tied around her waist, she carefully washed the vegetables and attentively followed the other woman's instructions.
Is this his favorite dish? — she asked, stirring the creamy seafood rice.
Yes, it is, dear. When Eduardo was a boy, his father always requested this dish on Sundays. After the gentleman passed away, he never spoke of it again... but every time I make it, he eats everything. — Mrs. Célia smiled faintly. — I think he keeps more things in his heart than he lets show.
Elisa smiled but didn't respond. She preferred not to create illusions.
Since the wedding, Eduardo seemed determined to maintain an invisible wall between them. He came home late, left early. They exchanged brief words at breakfast and fleeting glances in the hallways. She didn't know if the marriage bothered him that much... or if he just didn't know how to deal with someone like her.
Someone who didn't demand. Who didn't require. Who just... existed.
But even though she didn't say it, Elisa still tried. It was in her nature to care. To love in silence. To serve with affection. And perhaps, deep down, she hoped he would notice.
----
At eight o'clock sharp, the table was set. The penthouse seemed even quieter than usual, and Elisa checked for the fourth time the aligned silverware, the chilled wine, the central dish with the steaming rice.
She had dressed modestly: a white cotton dress, loose hair, and a light jasmine perfume in the air. Simple, yet beautiful. The kind of beauty that doesn't shout — it just remains.
She sat at the table and waited.
The clock showed 8:15 PM.
Then 8:40 PM.
At 9 PM, her cell phone vibrated with a short message:
"Dinner with investors. Don't wait up. – E."
Nothing more.
No "sorry." No "thank you."
She exhaled slowly. The plate in front of her seemed to wilt before her eyes.
He's not coming, is he? — asked Mrs. Célia, appearing at the doorway.
Elisa forced a smile.
Business.
The older woman observed her with tenderness.
Do you want me to put it away?
No... I think I'll eat a little.
She sat alone, and for a few minutes, the sound of the fork against the plate was her only company.
Eduardo didn't know, but what was being served there was more than just rice. It was her patience. Her effort. The affection hidden in small gestures. And he... didn't even taste it.
-----
The next day, Eduardo arrived almost at dawn. Elisa, still in her robe, was brewing coffee in the kitchen. The aroma spread throughout the space and softened the air.
He entered with tired eyes, jacket over his shoulders, and loosened tie.
Worked all night? — she asked, without irony.
Meetings. Investors from Dubai. — He opened the refrigerator and grabbed a water bottle. — Didn't sleep.
She poured a cup of coffee and extended it to him.
Strong, no sugar. The way you like it.
Eduardo hesitated but took it. He looked at her for a second longer than usual. Almost... curious.
Thank you.
It was the first word of gratitude she had heard from him in days.
But before she could respond, he had already turned his back, heading toward the bedroom.
Always like this. One step forward, two steps back.
------
By the third week of marriage, his absence became the rule. Dinners at luxury restaurants with businessmen. Flash trips to São Paulo. Gala events where she wasn't even mentioned. Elisa wasn't always informed, and many nights she slept alone not knowing where he was — or if he would return.
She, in turn, filled her days with reading, long walks, and now, cooking lessons with Mrs. Célia. It was her way of filling the void.
You're strong, girl — said the housekeeper one morning, as they were making a cake. — I've seen many women enter this house with sparkling eyes and leave shattered. But you... you remain steady.
Elisa smiled gently.
It's not strength, Mrs. Célia. It's survival.
------
One night, Eduardo arrived unexpectedly. Elisa was on the sofa, reading. The sound of the door opening made her heart race — even though she wished otherwise.
He seemed exhausted, but something was different. A darker look, a heavier silence.
Is everything alright? — she asked.
More or less. — He dropped his briefcase forcefully. - A partner broke a contract. An unexpected blow.
I'm sorry...
He sat on the sofa next to her but didn't even look at her. He ran his hands through his hair, frustration evident in his shoulders.
You don't need to pretend you care — he muttered.
Elisa closed the book.
I don't pretend anything, Eduardo. I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm here. Every day.
He looked at her, finally. And for a moment, there was something in his eyes... perhaps remorse, perhaps surprise. But it disappeared as quickly as it came.
Going to bed early? — he asked.
I was thinking of watching something. Want to stay?
He hesitated. Then, he stood up.
Good night, Elisa.
And he was gone.
Again.
She exhaled slowly, turned her gaze to the darkened TV screen, and thought that perhaps loving someone absent was like dancing alone in the dark: you might learn the steps, but you never stop feeling the absence of the other.