Chapter 10 — A Day of Little Words and Big Love
18 March 2012.
Sunlight poured across the Azevedo mansion like golden glitter, warm and bright. This was the day the family had been waiting for—Árman Azevedo's second birthday.
The decorations were light and cheerful: pastel balloons, ribbons shaped like stars, and a big "2" standing proudly near the main table. Soft children's music floated through the house, mixing with the laughter of adults and the excited squeals of kids playing around.
Árman stood near his mother, wobbling slightly on his tiny feet. His white hair glowed like silk in the sunlight, his golden face proportions already noticeable, and his lashes brushed his cheeks whenever he blinked.
He looked at the cake in front of him, eyes wide.
"Ma… ma…" he whispered, tugging Isabella's sleeve.
She bent down, kissing the top of his head.
"Yes, baby? You like the cake?"
He pointed clumsily at the frosting.
"Ca… ka…"
"Cake!" Sofia Duarte laughed, clapping her hands. "Look at him! He's trying!"
The whole family gathered around the small table.
Leonardo and Isabella smiling proudly
Augusto and Helena standing behind them with soft, teary joy
Ricardo and Sofia cheering loudly
Marcos and Alejandra holding their twins
Thiago bumping shoulders with Leo playfully
The cousins bouncing up and down in excitement
Everyone's eyes were on the little birthday boy.
"Alright, meu anjinho," Leonardo said softly, holding his hands on Árman's shoulders. "Blow out the candle."
The flame flickered gently.
Árman stared at it, mesmerized.
Then he leaned forward, puffed his cheeks, and blew—
"Phhuu!"
The candle went out.
Everyone clapped and cheered as if he had just won an Olympic medal.
Isabella lifted him up and kissed his cheek.
"Parabéns, meu amor."
He giggled.
"Ma… ma…"
---
Afternoon Gifts
By early afternoon, after cake, small snacks, and baby games, the family moved to the living room. A comfortable warmth filled the mansion as everyone settled, each holding a little gift for the two-year-old.
Isabella's mother, Sofia, handed him a soft blanket shaped like a lion.
"For my little king," she said dramatically.
He hugged it instantly, burying his face in the fur.
"Rrr…" he murmured, imitating a lion.
Everyone laughed.
Next came Helena, gifting him a tiny gold bracelet engraved with "Á.A."
"A reminder," she said gently, "of our precious miracle."
Then Ricardo gave him a children's book with thick pages—farm animals and bright colors.
"Let him chew it if he wants. It's baby-proof."
After that, the cousins gave him toy blocks, a rubber duck, a scribble book, and colorful stacking rings.
He accepted each one with a smile or a confused blink, clutching them with tiny hands.
But the final gift was from his father.
Leonardo knelt down in front of him, holding a small wrapped box.
"Meu filho… I bought this thinking of the future."
He removed the wrapping.
Inside lay a miniature football, just the size perfect for a toddler.
White and black, shiny, clean.
Árman's eyes grew round. He reached out immediately.
"Ba… ba… ba!"
"Bola," Leo corrected gently. "Football."
"Fo… ba…"
He pressed the ball to his chest protectively.
Leo laughed, kissing his forehead.
"That's right. Good boy."
---
Playtime With the Whole Family
The entire family moved outside to the private garden, where the grass was soft and warm underfoot.
Little Árman placed the football on the ground.
He lifted his foot.
Everyone watched, breath held—
And he kicked it.
Well… kind of.
It rolled five centimeters.
But to him?
It was a victory.
"Daaa!" he squealed proudly.
Laughter echoed across the yard.
Thiago clapped dramatically.
"Goal! The champion is here!"
Marcos pretended to faint.
"Incredible technique!"
Alejandra carried him briefly and twirled him around while he giggled loudly.
"A future superstar!"
His grandparents applauded, smiling so widely their cheeks hurt.
The cousins chased him around, gently bumping the football toward him, helping him feel involved in the game. His legs wobbled, his steps were clumsy, and sometimes he fell onto his butt—but he always got back up, giggling every time.
He played until his cheeks turned pink, his hair messy, and his breaths came in little gasps.
Even as a normal child, he radiated joy—bright, warm, pure.
---
Evening Calm
As the sun dipped low, painting the sky in gold and purple, exhaustion finally washed over him.
He was on the grass, eyes half-open, leaning against Leonardo's leg. His little hands weakly held the mini football.
Leonardo crouched, softly brushing his son's hair.
"Tired, meu anjo?"
Árman tried to respond, but only a soft:
"Da… da…"
left his lips.
Leo's expression melted.
"Come here."
He picked the small boy up gently, holding him against his chest.
Árman's head rested on his father's shoulder, eyes slowly closing.
The walk back to the house was quiet, peaceful.
The family followed behind, smiling softly at the sight—father and son, warmth and love, a small miracle sleeping in the arms of the man who waited years for him.
Leo entered the master bedroom, stepping carefully.
He approached the white crib beside the bed.
The stars on the mobile above it glowed faintly.
He lowered Árman slowly, placing him on the soft mattress.
The little boy stirred once, clutching the tiny football even in sleep.
Leonardo adjusted the blanket around him and whispered:
"Boa noite, meu campeão."
He kissed his son's forehead.
Árman didn't wake.
The room fell into quiet moonlit peace as his father stepped back—