He denied it to me, of course, but I found out that he liked her. Nikko liked that woman a lot, and she liked him a lot. What a curse! So I decided to continue the relationship-focused only on sex and the company we sometimes gave each other. Why? Well, because a part of me prevented me from letting him go completely. I know it sounds pathetic, but at the time I didn't see it that way. Shortly after leaving the party, Pina contacted me that same night to tell me that those two had been behaving strangely, very close together and sharing secrets on other days before that. Her own eyes, according to her mouth, saw it all. Pina didn't have to tell me too much, she already knew. They were having an affair or had been, I was sure of that. Still, my eyes and those of Harry's young wife were not enough evidence to make a fuss anymore. Again, I let it go because, after all, I felt a little freer being with Nikko that way.September came, and Nikko (who from time to time traced joy and benev
Every time I recall the vicissitudes of my destiny, I feel pressure, and my abilities slow down. It was so stupid! I didn't know how to handle living so close to Maël and I regret the thousand foolish things I thought of telling him, or the catastrophic scenarios I imagined with him, so sure I would come up with something good or to his liking.Something bad was happening to me, I was caught between the enormous desire to leave and the strange desire to stay and see everything. To see, to see, to see... to be seen too, to be seen by "him". I wanted to study him, to channel his way of living and being. He was already old; he was a man who looked older than he was, and I was nervous about his proximity, although I was always hiding that nonsense. I think that the enormous curiosity to know the source of his energy was what kept me with anxiety inside Nikko's new house. I had to go back to Braga and lock myself away, to get away completely, giving the best excuse of the year. But when
"Are you going to Braga this weekend?" I nodded at Nikko's question. I was sluggish that late morning, not wanting to get out of bed, just wanting to do little things with him until well after noon, struggling with the blessed song still stuck in my head. Fourteen days I had those infernal lyrics between my eyebrows. "I need you to stay." He planted a kiss on my mouth and headed for the bathroom. I sat on the bed, covering my nakedness with the sheets. "Oh, yeah? What for?" I asked. "A trip with the family came up. Would you like to travel with us?" "A trip? Like old times? Where are we going?" Nikko looked at me with a bored face. "To the same place as always, Delu." I rolled my eyes and smiled. I said yes, and in a few days, we were in a house in Arouca, a town in the northwest of the Aveiro District. A quiet town, with a modest flow of tourism but beautiful, simply beautiful. The house was one of the largest cabins in the "Casa de Camélia" hotel complex. It was not the fi
I managed to get some sleep. I was overwhelmed by how unprepared I felt to leave the relationship with Nikko. I wasn't one hundred per cent sure of his infidelity, and with a cooler head, I assured myself that he wouldn't cheat on me during that trip and even less in front of his family. Besides, the words he shared with Cata made me think that he was avoiding unnecessary trouble. But while thinking, I remembered that Maël and Belinda were co-workers and that Nikko came to the store (and according to Catalina) to bother them. I then remembered Aunt Chia's party, the boy Maël preventing me from getting up, his worried face... The next morning, I crept out of bed very early to look for Maël. The boy had a very good habit: getting up early. So I took advantage of the quiet hours to get to him and try to get information from him, but I didn't get to the kitchen when a divine smell of baked sweets and cut milk invaded me from the corridor of rooms. I was dragged by the chin, light and d
The night fell amidst family activities and few other things worth mentioning, and I didn’t get the chance to talk to Maël about that damned topic. I decided to let it go for the moment. I was fiercely eager to return to Braga, to my beloved Tenões, to stay at home with my parents, to call my brother and find out how he was doing. I wanted to be in my own environment, one where I would always be welcomed. And I don’t mean to say that I wasn’t welcomed at Casa Camélia or at Nikko’s house in Viana do Castelo. I was talking about the essentials—the adoration of a partner, where I was beginning to feel more and more that I didn’t belong. When we returned, I got out of one of the family cars and stepped into my beloved home. I had arrived with mixed feelings: personal disappointment for not having pushed harder to get information from Maël, and a desire to turn everything upside down with Nikko. The latter haunted me. When I entered the house, I was surprised to see my brother, Danilo,
"What are you doing?" I said, pointing at the construction and looking at all of them. "A construction barbecue," Marcel replied while mixing cement. Each of them looked disheveled, sweaty, dirty, and covered in splatters of cement, paint, and dust. I nodded, genuinely impressed. "And how did you suddenly decide to build a barbecue? What happened to the charcoal grills?" I pointed back towards the kitchen. I saw Maël smile after my comment as he took out some red blocks from that storage room located next to the construction site. The same one where he once tried to untangle the ropes of the punching bag. "The grills are fine," Nikko explained, "but they're not big enough for this whole family. Remember when we went to the hardware store last month with Mom?" Hmm, right. She didn't stop telling her son the materials she wanted for that design. I nodded. I moved a little closer and examined what they had built so far. I smiled and turned around with genuine excitement and admir
I immediately removed the blindfold. "What...?" I looked at the door. I sharpened my hearing, and the absolute silence was too overwhelming. Without moving from the mattress, I scrutinized the bottom of the door, and the shadow told me someone was standing behind it. I swallowed hard and dared to ask: "Nikko? What's going on? Why aren't you coming in?" A muttered curse was exhaled from outside, and I gasped loudly. I grabbed the blankets and clenched them into a fist against my chest. "Who is it?" My voice trembled. The person took a few seconds to respond. "It's Maël." My eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, and my jaw almost dropped. «What...? Wha... Wha... What...? MAËL JUST SAW ME NAKED?!» I stood up on the bed. "What?!" "Delu. Sorry, I just came to tell you—" "You didn’t come to tell me anything, you pervert!" That ridiculous, then perverted Maël had just seen me naked. My God, Holy God, Holy Mother of God. "Delu?" he called through the d
What would life be without secrets? My brother was in trouble. We acted quickly, and I demanded that he be taken to a hospital urgently. He refused—and for good reason. He knew that there, he’d have to answer questions, that both he and I, even Nikko, would have to give statements to the doctors and any authorities who came to investigate what had happened. But Danilo’s story was so strange, so twisted… My brother had fallen for the wrong woman. A "lady" he’d met who-knows-where, the one who had left him with those injuries. Well, it wasn’t exactly "her" who had messed him up, but rather, perhaps, her husband’s men, who, after finding out about their affair, decided to teach him a lesson. Pathetic and tragic. Fucking horrible. The initial shock of the news gave way to rage. Danilo didn’t want to report anyone—fear had clouded his judgment. In the hospital room, we argued fiercely, though without raising our voices, not wanting others to overhear. I insisted a thousand times on c
As every December, the decorated streets, theaters opening their doors with new performances, shopping centers closing late, and event organizations and big concerts arriving from Lisbon and Porto, bringing international artists with them. The temperature dropped considerably, and my inbox kept filling up with work—thank God—but with no replies. No one answered my email question, as if it had never happened. Fran wrote to me several times, inviting me out. I had to be honest and reminded him that Nikko still existed in my life. Fran… Fran suspected strange things because after my flirting and encouraging him, he started asking questions. First, he confirmed he knew Nikko much more than I thought, which reminded me of my clever move not to mention his name during the call while I was in Viana. Then he asked if the reason Maël had acted so arrogantly at the Russian’s party had to do with me being the wife of one of his relatives. The guy made it easy for me: I said yes. Fran immedia
Nikko turned me into someone unpleasant. His shock at me showing up unannounced at his house drew a mocking laugh from me. Every doubt I’d had the day before—every pang of guilt over having "cheated"—vanished almost completely. When had that man ever truly liked me? Nikko was alone but about to leave. Maël was nowhere to be found, and I didn’t ask about him. I was determined to end things, but first, I had something urgent to do. I stopped by my in-laws’ to say hello, and they invited me to lunch. Casually, I asked Adelaida where the rest of the family was. She detailed everyone’s whereabouts, chatting endlessly—until one piece of information froze me: "Maël is in Braga.""What?" I asked weakly. Thank God my mother-in-law didn’t hear me clearly. "Maël’s doing some university internship in Braga. At least, I think that’s what it is. That boy’s always so mysterious." «So he stayed there?» I thought, stunned. She continued, "By the way, didn’t Antónia call you? She wanted to a
One week after that horrendous party (though not entirely horrendous), after the whole Maël Saravia debacle, Sandra told me some details about what happened between her and Galev, the Russian, that night. Apparently, they were already officially dating. In fact, the man wasted no time in claiming her as his partner in front of her father, Mr. Gregorio, and kept visiting Mafalaia as often as possible. Knowing Sandra was happy made me happy. As for me, I didn’t tell her anything about what happened with Maël. Somehow, despite the witnesses, no one had mentioned it. Had anyone told Galev? And would he ever bring it up with my friend? I didn’t want to dwell on it. It was 17:00hrs on November 27th when I left the circus. The entire production team was eager to celebrate—the script for the play was finally finished, and soon, casting tests, costumes, and staging would follow. We were already feeling satisfied, and rehearsals hadn’t even started yet. There was still a long way to go.
I turned my head to the left. I smiled. "Cheers." I clinked my glass again. It was the blond guy from earlier. "I never told you my name. I’m Fran. And I’m not from here like my friend is—I’m from Lisbon." I nodded. "Sounds interesting. I didn’t say my name either. I think. I’m Delu," I introduced myself, shaking his hand. He glanced at the dance floor, then back at me. With a decisive move, he took my glass, set it on the bar, and left just a light touch on my hand. "Shall we dance?" "To that song? It’s like a rock. I don’t think—" "Everyone’s dancing to it." He pointed at the crowd. "Besides, it’s country—since when is country not danceable?" I let out a resigned laugh, thinking this guy didn’t fly because he didn’t have wings. I took his hand and let him lead. "I really like Braga. Have you lived here your whole life?" he asked. "Yeah. I was born here." I studied his face. This man was really handsome, no doubt about it. His smile was sweet, his gaze myste
"Press the Russian’s button already—do you plan on keeping us here forever?" the brunette demanded of his friends. Then Maël realized it was me. His expression shifted from amusement to shock, then from shock to confusion. And as the elevator began to rise, with the others still chattering loudly, oblivious to us, his features traveled from bewilderment to something else I couldn’t decipher. Yes, questions were written all over his face—I could see them from where I stood. He was wondering what I was doing in that elevator. I didn’t know if it was the literal "lift" of the elevator, but a surge of anxiety exploded in my stomach, replacing the butterflies and bees with what felt like furious ants. That explosion raced through my skin, turning into adrenaline. And I think he noticed my reaction too—he was asking himself the same questions I was. From that moment, I didn’t look at anyone else, only him: well-dressed, light jeans, a striped shirt that accentuated his height, smelling
(2018. Braga). I had two missed calls from Sandra. God, I was so busy. The organization of Theatro Circo in Braga had contacted me to help with the script for a very important play—almost a dream for anyone in the Portuguese theater scene. I accepted immediately, immensely grateful for the invitation and for not forgetting one of their former collaborators. Besides, that venue was one of the best stages in Europe—I don’t think I could ever refuse them. The Braga City Council had strengthened ties with the theater’s institutional department to raise funds for improving the city’s stage systems, breaking barriers to enhance smaller and outlying theaters as well. Once, Uncle Oscar—my mother’s only brother, who had lived in Porto his whole life—told me I’d starve studying theater in Portugal, that it was an undervalued profession in Europe. If I wanted to stand out and become a superstar, he said, I should learn English and move to London—or go even farther and head straight to Holl
I listened to my brother, and we hid like criminals in a hotel room that I had to pay for with my own money. I stayed with him for an entire week, taking care of him, with the most suffocating weight inside me. I questioned my brother many times, asking him how long he had known about the husband’s suspicions, and I scolded him for not hiding better, for moving forward despite knowing the danger he was putting himself in. I told him so many things, and he told me even more until my ears burned and then my whole body from exhaustion, rage, and worry. That week in that room, I felt like a fugitive—stupid and afraid. I never want to feel that way again, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. But it was my brother, and I know he would do the same for me. The legal advice was nothing more than guidance on what to do if that man decided to retaliate in other ways. Because of that, Danilo spilled the truth to Nikko, revealing the identity of the one who had hurt him—a name that meant nothing
What would life be without secrets? My brother was in trouble. We acted quickly, and I demanded that he be taken to a hospital urgently. He refused—and for good reason. He knew that there, he’d have to answer questions, that both he and I, even Nikko, would have to give statements to the doctors and any authorities who came to investigate what had happened. But Danilo’s story was so strange, so twisted… My brother had fallen for the wrong woman. A "lady" he’d met who-knows-where, the one who had left him with those injuries. Well, it wasn’t exactly "her" who had messed him up, but rather, perhaps, her husband’s men, who, after finding out about their affair, decided to teach him a lesson. Pathetic and tragic. Fucking horrible. The initial shock of the news gave way to rage. Danilo didn’t want to report anyone—fear had clouded his judgment. In the hospital room, we argued fiercely, though without raising our voices, not wanting others to overhear. I insisted a thousand times on c
I immediately removed the blindfold. "What...?" I looked at the door. I sharpened my hearing, and the absolute silence was too overwhelming. Without moving from the mattress, I scrutinized the bottom of the door, and the shadow told me someone was standing behind it. I swallowed hard and dared to ask: "Nikko? What's going on? Why aren't you coming in?" A muttered curse was exhaled from outside, and I gasped loudly. I grabbed the blankets and clenched them into a fist against my chest. "Who is it?" My voice trembled. The person took a few seconds to respond. "It's Maël." My eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, and my jaw almost dropped. «What...? Wha... Wha... What...? MAËL JUST SAW ME NAKED?!» I stood up on the bed. "What?!" "Delu. Sorry, I just came to tell you—" "You didn’t come to tell me anything, you pervert!" That ridiculous, then perverted Maël had just seen me naked. My God, Holy God, Holy Mother of God. "Delu?" he called through the d