Semua Bab MY FATHER'S BEST FRIEND IS MY LOVE: Bab 1 - Bab 10

The days went by, and the atmosphere at home grew increasingly hostile.My mother was always busy, distracted by her own concerns, barely noticing what was happening around her. I, on the other hand, had college responsibilities—final exams, practical internships coming up, the end of the semester—but none of it seemed enough to keep me away from Marcelo's visits.Sometimes, I could hardly believe how he managed to be present without being invited, showing up in every corner of the house, always with that gaze he couldn’t hide. He seemed to be everywhere, always too close, as if he wanted to occupy every space. Every move I made was followed by him, and I no longer knew how to react.It became routine for me to be in my room, trying to study or rest, when I would hear the door creak open. He never knocked. He just walked in, and the mere sound of his footsteps seemed to fill the room with a tension I couldn’t break.At first, I tried to be polite, pretended I didn’t mind. But over tim

My schedule remained packed, even though my mind was caught between the pain of betrayal and a full agenda of surgeries. Keeping busy seemed like the best way out. Avoiding a conversation with Maria Clara, at that moment, was the only way to maintain some sanity, avoiding conflicts that would hurt us even more. So, I went to the capital, Rio de Janeiro, for an important lecture. The auditorium at the federal university was packed. It was the end of the semester at that college. Medical and nursing students from all stages crowded into the uncomfortable plastic chairs, some frantically taking notes, others just pretending to be interested. I was used to it: lectures, congresses, opening ceremonies. The same cycle of catchphrases and impactful graphs. But that night, there was something different in the air. Perhaps it was the fatigue from the trip or the discomfort of being back in Rio, where past memories still whispered at every corner, reminding me that our forever was never meant

I went out in search of a heater, since the room didn’t have one. When I returned, I found an intruder in my bed.He or she was curled up under the blanket, breathing lightly, as if they had claimed the space without the slightest shame. I frowned, but the light went out again.“Damn these technologies... They never work properly for us,” I muttered, complaining about the sensor.“Who’s there?” asked a young female voice, leaving me perplexed. Had I entered the wrong room? I instinctively checked my pockets, a common habit when I feel uncertain.“I should be the one asking. Who’s there? This is bungalow number four. It’s reserved for me.”Before I could finish, the stranger sat up in bed, triggering the sensor at last. My gaze instinctively locked in place as I realized she was completely naked.She was a stunning sight. Her damp dark hair, like a moonless night, cascaded over her shoulders as if each strand had a life of its own. Her brown eyes, almost amber, gleamed intensely like r

Mavi walked into the room, wearing a white dress with thin straps and striking blue patterns. Underneath, a second-skin camisole hugged her figure. She had been wearing that outfit since lunch—a beautiful girl who drew attention without even realizing it.She sat in the same armchair again and, without hesitation, opened the book and resumed reading where she had left off. It was as if she were searching for peace, which made me wonder if she could find it in any other bungalow. Even the ones for singles were filled with couples at that moment. The soft rain was an inviting prelude to affectionate acts and the release of sexual desires.She looked at me for a moment, as if she knew I was still watching her. Our eyes locked in a gaze I couldn’t control. She watched me in silence, and I did the same until she finally looked back at the book.In the fourth bungalow—Laranjeiras room—with a pleasant scent lingering in the air, I was torn between thinking I had made the right decision by ask

But like me, one of the men was also watching her, ignoring the girlfriend—or wife—beside him. The singing lasted until dawn, the rain intensifying. I walked toward the bungalow, unable to ignore the strange feeling growing inside me. I glanced at the golden ipe bungalow. The door was closed. Had they made up?I hadn’t thought about being with another woman in years, hadn’t even looked at one with interest. Mavi seemed to be breaking an old cycle—and that only proved how weak my connection with Maria Clara had become.I entered the room, lost in thought. The loneliness of the early morning filled the space.I could never trust again. I couldn't forget those screams, those moans... the way she gave herself over. I didn’t even recognize her in that bed, like that. Their intimacy disturbed me even more. Knowing she’d been with another man, while she was still mine… how could I bear it?I found it odd that Mavi wasn’t there. She wasn’t in bed, or in the room. Had they worked things out?