Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Patrícia woke with a start, her heart racing. She looked around, confused. She did not remember leaving Mr. Avelar’s side. How had she ended up in her own room?

Without wasting time, she got up quickly and ran to his bedroom. Seeing him still motionless, she felt a tightness in her chest. She approached and, instinctively, ran her fingers over his, trying to sense any movement. Nothing.

Frustrated, she began to gently massage his hand, as if she could encourage him to react.

“Come on, Mr. Avelar… Move your fingers for me… Just a little…”

But there was no response.

She sighed but refused to feel discouraged. Forcing a smile, she spoke gently.

“All right, maybe not today, but I know it will happen. I can feel it.”

She looked around and had an idea.

“I’m going to turn on the TV and put on the news for you. I bet you miss keeping up with what’s going on, don’t you?”

She picked up the remote control and turned on the television, tuning it to the news channel.

“Let’s see what’s happening in the world today… Who knows, maybe some bad news about the economy will make you open your eyes in indignation, huh?”

She let out a small laugh, trying to ease the tension. Then she took his hand again, a silent gesture of support.

“I’m here, okay? I’ll take care of you…”

A few minutes later, she left the room only long enough to wash her face, brush her teeth, and fix her hair. Meanwhile, one of Augusto Avelar’s fingers moved quickly, almost imperceptibly, to the sound of the news echoing from the television.

When she returned, Patrícia sat beside him, waiting for the newscast to end. As soon as the final report aired, she picked up the remote and turned off the TV, leaving the room in a calm silence.

She smiled, satisfied at having made that moment more comfortable for him, but something made her frown. Mr. Avelar’s face looked flushed. Concerned, she leaned in and held his face between her delicate hands.

“But what is this…?” she murmured, feeling the warmth of his skin under her fingers.

She grabbed the thermometer and checked his temperature. It was a little high, but not enough to be a fever. Even so, she decided to act.

Carefully, she pulled the blankets down, removing them completely. Then she took off his socks and ran her hands over his feet. They were too warm.

“It’s stuffy in here, isn’t it?” she commented, more to herself.

Without hesitation, she opened the first buttons of the patient’s shirt to help him cool down, but as soon as she did, she froze.

Her eyes widened as she was met with a broad, defined, and surprisingly well-cared-for chest. Firm skin, evident muscles… It was impossible to believe that this man had been unconscious for so long.

Her gaze traveled over his broad chest and slowly moved downward, almost on its own. Her mouth fell slightly open, and she swallowed hard.

“My God…” she whispered, only realizing she was staring too much when she felt her own face grow warm.

Quickly, she shook her head and scolded herself mentally.

“Patrícia, for God’s sake, you’re drooling over your patient!”

She closed his shirt with trembling fingers, turned her back, and took a few deep breaths to regain her composure.

“That was a mistake… a big mistake…” she murmured, fanning her own face.

But as she tried to calm down, she did not notice that, for a brief moment, Augusto’s fingers moved again.

“I need to be professional…” Patrícia murmured to herself, closing her eyes for a moment before turning back.

With as much concentration as she could muster, she opened Augusto’s shirt once more, trying to ignore the firm chest that unsettled her. Keeping her focus on controlled breathing, she picked up the thermometer and waited a few seconds before checking his temperature again.

When she looked at the display, she frowned. His temperature had returned to normal.

“He was hot…” she commented to herself, puzzled by the situation.

Curious, she leaned closer and touched his hands. The night before, they had been cold, but now the sensation was completely different. She ran her hands over his feet, noticing they were also at a normal temperature.

“How strange…” she whispered, leaning in a little more to observe him closely.

Augusto’s skin had a healthier tone than before, which made her wonder if his body was reacting in some way.

Her heart raced. Could that mean he was really waking up?

A mix of excitement and anxiety washed over her. Without thinking, she held one of Augusto’s large, strong hands between hers.

“Mr. Avelar, if you can hear me, give me a sign…” she asked softly.

She waited in silence for a few seconds, hoping for some reaction. But nothing happened.

Sighing, she gently released his hand and leaned back in the chair beside the bed.

“Maybe I’m imagining things…” she murmured, biting her lip.

Even so, a feeling told her that something was changing. And, for some reason, that made her more anxious than it should have.

The butler entered the room and looked at Patrícia with concern.

“You didn’t come down for breakfast. Are you not feeling well?”

Patrícia sighed, still uneasy about Augusto’s situation.

“I’m not hungry…” she replied, glancing toward the man in the bed.

The butler frowned, disapproving of her answer.

“Even so, I’ll ask them to bring you some orange juice with papaya. Going too long without eating can make you lose your strength.”

He was about to leave when he stopped at the door, as if he had remembered something important.

“Oh, Mr. Rafael asked me to inform you that at lunchtime a medical team will come to evaluate the master. He wants a more precise diagnosis, since you saw him move.”

Patrícia felt her heart race. The news made her anxious, but also relieved.

“That’s great…” she murmured, looking back at Augusto.

The butler nodded and left the room, leaving her alone again.

She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair, trying to organize her thoughts. In a few hours, she would know whether that small movement she had witnessed was truly a sign that he was regaining consciousness.

“I hope so…” she whispered to herself, gently squeezing his hand.

Her dark eyes studied Augusto’s sleeping face. They drifted to the dresser beside the bed, where several perfumes were neatly lined up. Next to them, one item caught her attention: massage oil.

Instantly, she remembered the staff’s conversation from the previous day. They had said that Augusto used to receive massages regularly.

“Maybe this will help with circulation… and who knows, stimulate the muscles to react.”

The idea seemed good, and she approached the dresser, picking up the bottle hesitantly. However, before she could begin, a light knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.

One of the staff members entered with a tray.

“Here’s your breakfast, miss. Orange juice and papaya, just as the butler requested.”

Patrícia forced a small smile and nodded.

“Thank you.”

The woman left, and Patrícia looked at the tray for a few seconds. Her stomach was empty, but her anxiety was greater than her hunger. She couldn’t think about food at that moment.

Without touching breakfast, she turned her attention back to Augusto.

“Let’s see if this helps you…”

She poured some oil into her hands and rubbed them together to warm it. Then, hesitantly, she opened the buttons of his shirt even more, revealing his strong, well-cculpted chest.

When she touched his warm skin, she felt a shiver run through her body.

“Focus, Patrícia… you’re here to take care of him.”

With gentle movements, she began to massage Augusto’s shoulders and chest. As her hands glided over his firm skin, she noticed something strange, as if he were subtly reacting to her touch.

Her heart pounded.

She stopped for a moment, but there was no response. Even so, she was sure that, for an instant, his muscles had tightened beneath her hands.

Patrícia continued the massage, now with more hope than ever.