It had been three hectic days between the office and the hospital. Eduardo was dividing his time between tense investor meetings and visits to Sophia, who was now on absolute bed rest after what the doctor called a minor surgery to stabilize her ankle sprain.
You've been an angel... she would say in a sweet voice. ...My personal angel.
He didn't know why, but something felt strange about her recovery. Sophia always seemed perfectly made up, her hair too neatly arranged, her tears too rehearsed. But he ignored his discomfort.
On the third night, after leaving the hospital, he finally decided to go home.
It was almost midnight when he entered the penthouse and noticed the different kind of silence. The house was tidy, yes, but there was an emptiness that went beyond the usual quietness.
Mrs. Célia? ... he called out as he passed through the kitchen.
The housekeeper appeared in the corridor, startled to see him.
Mr. Eduardo! I thought you wouldn't be coming this week. Would you like dinner?
No. I just wanted to know where Elisa is. I need to talk to her.
Mrs. Célia's eyes widened for a moment.
Sir... did you forget?
Forget what?
She traveled. Three days ago. She said she'd leave a note in your office.
Eduardo furrowed his brow and, on impulse, went to his home office. On the desk, among papers and reports he hadn't even read in the past few days, there was a discreet envelope with his name handwritten on it.
He tore open the seal quickly.
Eduardo,
I'll be away for a few days. I received an invitation I couldn't refuse. It's something important to me, even if you don't see it that way. I'm not leaving for good, but perhaps this is the beginning of my departure. Take care of yourself. Elisa.
He read it twice.
Then once more.
His chest tightened.
His mind became confused.
He grabbed his cell phone and called.
It rang three times and went to voicemail.
He called again.
Nothing.
He opened WhatsApp and wrote:
Where are you? Why didn't you tell me?
The message was delivered. But not seen.
He opened social media... something he rarely did... and started looking for any clues. There was nothing on Elisa's discreet profile. But it only took opening Sophia's profile to see what he needed... and what he didn't want.
A photo.
Her lying on the hospital stretcher, eyes slightly wet.
Caption:
"Grateful to the man who took care of me with so much love. My heart recognizes you, even after so long." ... #EduardoCastro #AlwaysYou
Anger rose like a punch.
What the hell is this?
He tried calling Elisa again.
This time, straight to voicemail.
She was ignoring him.
And he deserved it.
------
The truth is that Elisa saw the post on the second day of her trip. A friend from the conservatory sent it, not knowing the pain it would cause:
"Your life is really low-key, huh? While you're shining in Lisbon, this guy is taking care of his ex with too much affection, don't you think?"
Elisa stared at the screen for minutes. The caption. Sophia's face. Eduardo's body in the background, head bowed.
She closed her phone calmly. But inside... she was bleeding.
It wasn't just about the hospital. It was about how he always runs to her, while he doesn't even notice when you leave.
During the afternoon, she focused on the workshops, the collective compositions, the musical debates. But her heart was heavy.
The only thing she expected from Eduardo was the minimum: truth.
But even that, he denied her.
------
At home, Eduardo spent the dawn pacing back and forth, trying to understand his own restlessness.
Why did he care so much about Elisa's absence?
Why did he feel like he had made a mistake he couldn't fix?
He called again.
Nothing.
He went to her closet. The absence of dresses, sheet music boxes, notebooks... the silence of the empty room. All of it bothered him in a way he didn't want to name.
And worst of all... she didn't say where she was going.
She left without waiting for permission.
Without crying. Without dramatizing. Without shouting.
And that... hurt him more.
------
Across the ocean, Elisa prepared for another rehearsal. She dressed with serene elegance, her hair tied in a simple bun, the violin firmly against her shoulder.
She was hurt, yes.
But determined not to become invisible again.
And for the first time, she didn't look at her phone all day.
Eduardo could wait.
Or learn how to lose.