Eduardo entered the apartment and threw his keys forcefully onto the console table.
Since leaving the restaurant, Elisa's face hadn't left his mind. That spontaneous laugh, the lightness in her walk, the emerald dress that traced every curve with elegance and sobriety. The image danced before him like a painting he had never seen in full.
He climbed the stairs. Her bedroom door was slightly ajar.
Elisa was sitting at her desk, writing by hand in her music notebook. There was a cup of tea beside her and soft instrumental music playing in the background.
Eduardo stopped at the door.
Were you enjoying yourself today?
His voice came loaded with arrogance. Not jealousy. Wounded pride.
Elisa raised her eyes slowly, surprised by his unexpected visit to her room.
Hi? What are you talking about?
He crossed his arms, leaning against the door like someone interrogating, not conversing.
The restaurant. Ipanema. A friend. Laughter. Event attire. You looked beautiful... he said with a half-ironic smile. ...Who would have thought.
She furrowed her brow.
I was meeting Cecília. My childhood friend. And yes, it was a good time.
And why that place? — he insisted, his tone bitter. ...Too much of a coincidence to have lunch exactly where I was.
She smiled with a touch of irony now.
Honestly, Eduardo? The world doesn't revolve around you.
He felt the blow.
Funny... you were always so discreet. Now it seems like you want to be noticed.
Elisa closed her notebook calmly.
No, Eduardo. I just stopped hiding myself. There's a difference.
He took two steps toward her, his eyes trying to decipher her.
And what changed?
I did. ... The answer came firmly. ...And perhaps you never really knew me.
Before he could say anything more, his cell phone rang. He looked at the screen and saw the name: Sophia.
He sighed.
He answered.
What is it?
The voice on the other end came trembling, whiny.
Edu... I'm sorry to call... I'm feeling awful. I slipped on the building stairs. I think I twisted my ankle... I'm at the hospital... alone.
He closed his eyes, sighing.
Which hospital?
Saint Luke's, Leblon... I'm sorry... I had no one else to call...
I'm coming.
He hung up and turned to Elisa, who was already standing in silence.
Did something happen?
Sophia fell. She's in the hospital. I'm going to see how she is.
Elisa didn't respond immediately. She just nodded with a slight movement of her head. But her eyes lost their shine for a second.
He hesitated.
Almost said something.
But turned his back and left.
------
At the hospital, Sophia was sitting in a wheelchair, leg bandaged, makeup smeared, her expression delicately ruined. The perfect embodiment of the helpless woman.
Eduardo... she whispered upon seeing him. ...I'm sorry... I was just... scared.
He held her hand, an automatic gesture.
It's over now. You're being well taken care of.
She looked at him with wet eyes, her voice low and sweet.
I thought you wouldn't come...
Don't be dramatic. You know I would come.
She smiled, tired.
I wish everything could be like before, just for one night...
Eduardo didn't answer. But he stayed.
He accompanied her through exams. Ordered food.
Slept in an armchair next to her bed.
Sophia knew what she was doing. Every tear, every touch, every word was measured. Because she recognized something in his gaze that Elisa hadn't yet perceived: confusion.
And confusion is a door that opens easily for those who want to enter.
------
In the penthouse, Elisa tried to sleep. But couldn't.
The silence in the room seemed greater.
More cruel.
More revealing.
He had rushed to her. Sophia.
And for the first time, what she felt wasn't just pain. It was clarity.
She had no space in his heart. She never did.
Perhaps she never would.
The image of him with Sophia in a hospital, the two together, hands intertwined, the same intimacy from a past she didn't know... corroded her mind.
Did they spend the night together?
Do they... still love each other?
She closed her eyes and turned to her side, trying to hold back tears.
And to think that, for a second, she thought he might see her.
------
When daylight came, Eduardo returned. Took a shower, changed clothes. Passed through the kitchen without finding her. Without looking for her.
In his head, the image of Elisa with Cecília still tormented him. But he tried to convince himself it was nothing.
Meanwhile, Elisa, alone in her room, finished filling out the application form for the residency in Lisbon.
Signed. Sent.
And for the first time, she felt no guilt about leaving.