Pov Samantha *** The sound of the helicopter blades fading into the distance was the last sound of our old life. We had bypassed the frantic energy of Rio, choosing instead a silent, deliberate sanctuary. The resort or rather, the pousada (a term Benjamin used, explaining it meant a small, upscale, private inn) was pure immersion. It wasn't a towering, impersonal hotel; it was a scattering of private bungalows carved seamlessly into the landscape, where the rainforest met the sand. Our bungalow felt less like temporary accommodation and more like a breath held for six months finally released. The interiors were all bleached wood, cool stone, and enormous sliding glass doors that opened directly onto a private deck, overlooking a stretch of beach so pristine it felt untouched. The air conditioning was minimal, allowing the thick, fragrant tropical air to drift in a scent of salt, sweet earth, and the lush, damp green of the Mata Atlântica rainforest. The silence was the most p
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