LOGINMoments after the messageDouro Valley villa, just before sunriseNo one moved for a while.Not me.Not Tomás.Not even the screen.It just stayed there, glowing too bright in the dark, like it knew we were still looking at it. Like it was waiting for something or maybe enjoying itGood, You’re learning.I couldn’t stop reading it.Even when I tried to look away, my eyes kept going back.Again.And again.Like if I didn’t keep watching, something worse would happen. Like it would change when I wasn’t looking.Sofia shifted in my arms, just a small sound, soft and almost not there. It broke through everything else instantly. Like something snapping me back into my body.I adjusted my hold on her without thinking, rocking her gently. My body knew what to do even if my head didn’t. Even if my thoughts were going everywhere at once.“They’re still here,” I whispered.“I know.”Tomás didn’t look away from the screen.Not even for a second.“How?” I asked. “How are they still connected?”He
Thirty minutes after the red lightDouro Valley villa, before sunriseNo one said it not out loud.But neither of us turned the monitor off.Tomás set it down slowly, like if he moved too fast it might… react. Like it was something alive instead of just plastic and wires. The red light blinked againslow, steady and then stayed there.Watching.I didn’t move from the bassinet. My hand stayed on Sofia’s blanket, barely even touching it, but enough to feel something real. Something that wasn’t… whatever this was.“Unplug it,” I said quietly.Tomás didn’t move.Not yet.I looked at him properly then Why not?Because if something’s connected to it, he said, voice low, too calm, “I want to know what.”A cold feeling crept up my spine.that means leaving it on.It means not tipping them off.Them “the word just sat there between us.Not a glitch.Not an accident.Someone.I swallowed, suddenly too aware o
Two nights after the monitor stayed onDouro Valley villa, just before dawnThe first few nights didn’t feel real.Not like the drive to the clinic, which was all sharp edges and panic and noise. This was different. Slower. Heavier. Like time itself got tired and decided to move in pieces instead of straight lines. Everything was measured now feeds, breaths, the soft rise and fall of Sofia’s chest, the quiet static hum of the monitor that never really, fully turned off.I don’t even know what woke me.It wasn’t a sound.Not a cry.Just… something.Like my body knew before my brain did.The room was dim, that weird green glow from the monitor washing over everything, making it all feel unreal. The fire had burned out hours ago, but the smell was still there @sh and warm stone and something faintly sweet underneath it.Tomás was asleep beside me, one arm draped over my waist, loose but still there. Even in sleep, he didn’t let go compl
Four days after that parking-lot chaosDouro Valley villa the night we brought her homeLabor didn’t ease in gently it slammed into me.One moment I was in the kitchen, barefoot, stealing bites of toast and pretending I still had control over my own body. The next, everything changed. Water on the floor. My breath catching. Tomás moving faster than I’d ever seen him move hands steady even when his voice wasn’t.The drive to the clinic in Pinhão blurred into flashes: his grip on the steering wheel, the way he kept glancing at me like I might disappear, the sharp rhythm of pain that took over everything else.The birth itself felt like it belonged to someone else. Time stretched and snapped and twisted. There was noise mine, mostly ihis voice grounding me, refusing to let me drift too far. And then suddenlyA cry.Loud. Fierce. Alive.They placed her on my chest, and everything else fell away. The room, the pain, the hours before it all shrank down
Three weeks after the festivalDouro Valley, late summer nine months and countingI had reached the point where walking felt like a slow negotiation with gravity. Every step took effort, every movement deliberate. The weight of the baby sat low now, impossible to ignore, shaping the way I carried myself, the way people looked at me, the way Tomás looked at me most of all.He noticed everything.The way I paused before standing. The way my hand drifted instinctively to my belly. The way I shifted when the baby moved. His touch followed those moments steady, grounding, almost reverent. Like he was memorizing it.We went out that evening anyway. One last quiet dinner before everything changed.The restaurant in Pinhão was small and warm, tucked near the river, filled with soft conversation and the clink of glasses. To anyone watching, we were just another couple finishing a late summer meal. But under the table, his hand rested on my knee, his thumb moving
One month after the night on the terraceDouro Valley Vineyard Festival miid-summerThe whole valley had turned into one big glowing party. Strings of fairy lights looped through the vines, music thumped from a little stage at the far end, tables loaded with food and glasses of wine that I could only stare at longingly. My sundress was the softest thing I owned thin white cotton that clung to every new curve and did exactly zero to hide the bump. Eight months now, round and heavy and impossible to miss. Tomás had clicked the silver collar around my throat before we left the house, kissed the spot just below it, and whispered, “Tonight the whole festival gets to look, baby girl. But only I get to touch.”We blended in at first. Just another couple slow-dancing near the edge of the crowd while some local band played old Portuguese songs. His hand rested low on my back, then slid around to cup the underside of the bump like it was the most natural thing in the world. T
I don’t remember deciding to come back.That’s the part that bothers me the most.There wasn’t a vote. There wasn’t a plan. One second we were in that motel bathroom with the flickering light and the warped mirror, and the next we were driving toward the only place that has
The bedroom door clicked shut behind us.Not a slam.Not even close.Just a quiet little sound that felt way too final.I didn’t look back at it.Couldn’t.Didn’t want to see if the knob was still turning on its own or if the house w
The motel bathroom light wouldn’t stop flickering.Not dramatic. Not horrorbmovie dramatic. Just cheap wiring and a bulb that needed replacing. Still, the uneven yellow light made everything look wrong. Sick. Washed out.I stood in front of the mirror, gripping the edges of
The motel door was locked.Deadbolt. Chain. The little metal bar thing that looked like it would snap if someone really wanted in.It didn’t matter.Nothing felt locked anymore.Julian was on the bed.Still shirtless.Still bleeding







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