2

The last classes flew by. The four of them could barely concentrate, so strong was their anticipation for the plans they had made. As soon as the final bell echoed through the hallways, Clara and Hanna were already side by side, hurrying after Rafael and Jessy toward the diner near the school. It was a simple place, yet full of charm: red booths, walls decorated with vintage pictures, and the irresistible scent of vanilla mixed with the soft sound of retro music.

“Two strawberry, one chocolate, and one vanilla,” Rafael ordered, already familiar with everyone’s tastes.

“How do you know what I want?” Clara teased, arching an eyebrow.

“Intuition,” he replied with a shrug, making her smile, pleased.

Sitting there, the four of them talked about school, laughed at the silliest stories, and shared the kind of confidences typical of teenagers who, despite knowing each other for such a short time, felt like old friends. While Clara and Rafael got caught up in a lively debate about who the best singer of the moment was, Hanna and Jessy sat a little apart, tucked into one corner of the booth.

“So…” he said, leaning slightly toward her, “what do you like to do when you’re not at school?”

Hanna laughed, shrugging, unsure how to answer.

“I don’t know… I like to draw. Stay home. I’m not really the going-out type.”

“Hmm…” He looked at her with that easy smile that seemed to slip past any defenses. “So today is a special day?”

“Yeah… I guess it is,” she replied, lightly biting the straw of her milkshake, unable to hide her shy smile.

Time passed too quickly. Before they knew it, it was already time to head home. Rafael and Jessy offered to drive the girls, like true gentlemen.

Rafael’s car stopped first in front of Clara’s house. He walked her to the gate, exchanged a few words, and then they said goodbye with a kiss. In the car behind them, Hanna was alone with Jessy. They drove on in silence for a moment—but it was a comfortable silence, full of meaning.

“We’re here,” Jessy said, parking in front of Hanna’s house.

She looked outside, but before opening the door, Jessy gently touched her hand.

“Wait…” he whispered.

Hanna turned to face him and met his eyes—so close, so intent. And then, before she could think of anything at all, Jessy leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. It was a sweet, gentle kiss, almost hesitant, just the way a first kiss should be. Hanna’s heart raced. She didn’t know whether to return it, pull away, or laugh… but in the end, she simply closed her eyes and let herself feel it, the warmth of the moment, the world outside disappearing completely. When they pulled apart, she kept her eyes closed for a few more seconds, as if she wanted to save that instant forever.

“Good night, Hanna,” Jessy said softly, his voice warm and sincere.

“Good night…” she replied, stepping out of the car with trembling legs, a light heart, and the certainty that she would never forget that moment.

That night, as she lay in bed, Hanna could think of nothing but that kiss—the first, and what she believed to be the beginning of a beautiful story. Little did she know that her life was about to be turned upside down.

The next morning, the house was far too quiet when Clara and Hanna came downstairs for breakfast. The clock on the wall showed they were already more than thirty minutes past the time they usually arrived. Their steps were cautious, but they couldn’t avoid Oswaldo’s notice—he was already standing in the living room.

“Where were you last night until that hour?” His voice sliced through the air like a cold blade.

Hanna and Clara exchanged a look, their hearts pounding.

“We just went for milkshakes with some friends after school…” Clara tried to explain, her voice barely audible.

But Oswaldo didn’t want to hear it. He took two steps forward, his eyes burning with anger, and without another word began shouting—calling them irresponsible, ungrateful, accusing them of disrespecting the rules of the house. Before they could defend themselves, the first blow landed. It wasn’t just a slap; it was a display of power and control. Then another. And another. Until the two of them backed away, trying to protect themselves, curled into a corner of the room.

The pain burned, but what hurt most was Lúcia’s silent contempt. She sat on the couch, a teacup in her hands, watching everything without moving a muscle. Worse than that… she seemed satisfied.

Oswaldo shouted one last time, turned his back, and left the room as if nothing had happened.

The girls remained there together, sitting on the cold floor. Clara held Hanna’s hand tightly, just as she had since they were little—whenever they tried to protect each other.

“It’ll pass…” Clara whispered, her voice breaking.

Hanna nodded, tears streaming down her face, but without making a sound. Over the years, she had learned how to cry silently.

Lúcia calmly stood up, adjusted her robe, and went upstairs, the echo of her heels resounding through the empty house. In that moment, the two of them knew—once again—that they couldn’t count on anyone… except each other.

In the bedroom, the morning light slipped weakly through the gaps in the curtains. Clara sat in front of the mirror, hurriedly applying concealer over the bruise that was already forming on the side of her face.

“Is it working?” she asked, leaning closer to the mirror and holding her breath.

Beside her, Hanna carefully adjusted the collar of her blouse, trying to hide the reddish mark on her shoulder.

“More or less…” she replied, borrowing her cousin’s foundation and spreading it gently with her fingers.

They didn’t look directly at each other. They didn’t need to. The silence said everything. Clara let out a heavy sigh, dropping the brush onto the vanity.

“Why does he always do this…?” The question came out in a whisper, more like a thought spoken aloud than something she expected an answer to.

Hanna paused, swallowing hard, unsure what to say.

“Don’t let him see that he hurt you,” she said firmly at last, returning to blending the makeup. “Never let him.”

Clara nodded, pressing her lips together. Then she turned to Hanna, forcing a smile.

“At least today you look nice. Jessy’s going to see you all pretty.”

Hanna let out a weak laugh, looking at herself in the mirror.

“I don’t know about pretty… but at least covered up.”

Clara stood and walked over to her, picked up a lipstick, and gently applied it to Hanna’s lips.

“There. Now no one will notice anything.”

“Just us,” Hanna whispered.

Clara squeezed her hand tightly. The two of them held each other’s gaze in the mirror for a second. United. Always.

The sound of the school bus horn cut through the moment.

“Ready?” Clara asked, grabbing her backpack.

Hanna took a deep breath, adjusted her blouse one more time, and smiled faintly.

“Let’s go.”

In the school courtyard, the sun was already high, and groups of students spread across benches, walkways, and the shade of the trees. Clara and Hanna walked side by side, heavy backpacks on their shoulders, their faces seemingly calm.

Rafael appeared first, stepping out of a group of boys with that confident smile he always wore.

“Hey, girls!” he greeted, draping an arm over Clara’s shoulders. She laughed and gave him a light push.

“Hi, Rafa,” Clara replied, her eyes lighting up in a way they only did when he was near.

Hanna stood there, feeling slightly out of place, until she felt a gentle hand touch her arm.

“Hi, Hanna,” Jessy said, appearing beside her with his calm, observant demeanor.

She smiled shyly, but before she could answer, his eyes subtly scanned her face, lingering a second longer than usual.

“Are you okay?” he asked suddenly, his voice lower, more serious.

Hanna froze for a moment, adjusting her hair as if that were enough to change the subject.

“Of course… why?”

Jessy frowned slightly, leaning a bit closer.

“The makeup…” he murmured, not finishing the thought.

Hanna took a deep breath and looked away.

“I’m just tired. It was a rough night.”

He seemed to understand and didn’t press further. Instead, he placed a hand on her shoulder—a silent gesture of support that made her feel, for the first time that morning, a little stronger.

“If you ever want to talk…” he added, meeting her eyes.

She smiled, sincerely.

“Thank you, Jessy.”

Meanwhile, Rafael and Clara were already walking ahead, chatting animatedly about their history class, as if the world were simple and light.

“Hey, come on!” Rafael called, unaware of the tension between Hanna and Jessy.

“Coming,” Jessy replied, and walked beside Hanna, respecting her silence.