Pietra
The air in the doctor’s office still smelled like alcohol and disinfectant when Dr. Fernandes closed Andressa’s file and smiled.
“The tests look great. You can go back to your usual activities—but take it easy. College, sure. Working at the store…”
He frowned slightly, studying Andressa’s face.
“I think it’s better to wait another month. Physical exhaustion could still slow your recovery.”
I let out a sigh of relief, but when I looked at Andressa, expecting to see the usual sparkle in her eyes she always had when receiving good news, I found only a reserved expression.
She thanked the doctor with a nod, but her fingers clutched her bag tighter than necessary.
In the hospital hallway, while we waited for the elevator, I gently touched her shoulder.
“You don’t seem as excited as I thought you’d be.”
She took a while to answer, her eyes fixed on the numbers lighting up above the elevator door.
"It’s just that..." — she took a deep breath, as if gathering courage — "I wanted
