20.
LEONARDO VILLAR
The first night of my second marriage to Olívia ends with me on the couch.
Better than I deserve.
The apartment has three bedrooms, but Marta is using one, Manuela sleeps with her mother, and the third has been converted into an office.
I could go home.
I don’t.
I tell myself it’s because of security.
The truth is, I can’t bring myself to leave with Manuela’s surgery six days away.
At two in the morning, I hear footsteps.
I’m upright immediately.
Olívia appears in the hallway wearing a robe over her nightgown.
“What happened?”
“Manuela is fine.”
“Then why are you up?”
“I wanted water.”
“Right.”
She walks toward the kitchen.
I don’t lie back down.
“You can stop following me,” she says without turning.
“I’m not following you.”
“You’re three steps behind me.”
I stay where I am.
Olívia fills a glass.
The ring is still on her finger.
I should not notice.
I notice everything.
“Can’t sleep?”
“I never sleep well before surgery.”
“It’s six days away.”
“For me, it already started.”
She drinks half the water.
“What were the other procedures like?”
“Hard.”
“I’d like to know.”
“Why?”
“Because I missed them.”
Olívia rests the glass on the counter.
“The first time, Manuela was eight months old. Too young to understand why she couldn’t nurse before the procedure. She cried for hours. When I handed her to the nurse, she reached for me.”
Something tightens painfully in my chest.
“How long?”
“Four hours.”
“And afterward?”
“ICU. I couldn’t hold her until the next day.”
“Were you alone?”
“My mother was there. álvaro too.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
She understands.
“Yes. I was alone in the way that mattered.”
Fair.
“And the second time?”
“She was three. Old enough to understand the hospital. She got angry with me because I promised I’d be there when she woke up and I was several minutes late getting into recovery.”
“Why?”
“I had a panic attack in the bathroom.”
The image destroys something inside me.
“No one told me.”
“Who would have?”
“I should have—”
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Turn every memory into another chance to say you should have been there. You weren’t. We can’t change it.”
“I’m trying to understand.”
“Understanding it is not the same as living through it.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
She closes her eyes.
“Sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize for being angry.”
“I do when I use things you can’t repair against you.”
“Some things I can repair.”
“Not those.”
The kitchen goes quiet.
“What can I do during this surgery?”
Olívia looks at me.
“Don’t try to control the doctors.”
“All right.”
“Don’t promise Manuela nothing will happen.”
“All right.”
“Do not treat my reaction like weakness.”
“I never thought you were weak.”
“You thought I was manipulative.”
“Not now.”
She draws in a breath.
“And if I tell you I need space, give it to me.”
“All right.”
“That’s it?”
“It’s a start.”
“Manuela said that.”
“She’s smart.”
“Got it from me.”
“Obviously.”
A small smile appears on her mouth.
This time, I am certain I saw it.
“Go back to sleep,” she orders.
“You too.”
“I can’t.”
“I can make tea.”
“You don’t know how to make tea.”
“I know how to boil water.”
“That is not making tea.”
“I can learn.”
Olívia sits on one of the stools.
“Chamomile.”
I find the tea bags in a cabinet.
The electric kettle is straightforward enough, but I have to search for the cups.
“Left side,” she says.
“I knew that.”
“You opened three wrong cabinets.”
“I was confirming.”
“Of course.”
I make the tea.
Hand her the cup.
She tastes it.
“Too weak.”
“Two tea bags?”
“You needed to steep it longer.”
“I can make another.”
“It’s fine.”
I sit on the opposite side of the counter.
For several minutes, neither of us speaks.
Strangely, it isn’t uncomfortable.
“What happens after the divorce?” I ask.
Olívia looks up.
“We haven’t even slept after the wedding and you’re already thinking about the ending?”
“There is a deadline.”
“We go back to our lives.”
“And Manuela?”
“You stay her father.”
“In Santa Serena.”
“Yes.”
“I live in S?o Paulo.”
“Planes exist. You own several.”
“I could work from Santa Serena part of the week.”
“You don’t need to decide that now.”
“I need to plan.”
“You spent your whole life planning and still missed what was happening right in front of you.”
There is no cruelty in the sentence.
Only truth.
“Maybe you need to plan less.”
“That would be revolutionary.”
“I’m considering it.”
She finishes her tea.
“Good night, Leonardo.”
“Good night, Olívia.”
When she walks past me, the edge of her robe brushes my arm.
My body reacts.
I have not touched another woman the way I touched Olívia in five years.
There were dinners.
Attempts.
Two brief relationships that ended before they became real.
None survived comparison.
I don’t tell her that.
She does not owe me interest in my loneliness.
The next morning, we announce the marriage.
Olívia approved the statement.
It does not mention a contract.
It reveals nothing about Manuela’s health.
It confirms that I recently discovered I am the father of a five-year-old girl after fraud was uncovered in documents connected to the end of my engagement to Olívia.
I take full responsibility for failing to investigate the accusations and state publicly that Olívia was innocent.
We also announce that we married in a private ceremony to protect our family during the paternity recognition process.
The press detonates.
The group’s stock rises.
I hate that those two things can exist in the same sentence.
Catarina announces a press conference.
Before it begins, she receives a court notice temporarily removing her from any decisions connected to Manuela’s trust.
She is also subpoenaed to testify regarding the fraud investigation.
She cancels the press conference.
“This isn’t over,” Daniel warns on the phone.
“I know.”
“The shareholder meeting is still scheduled for after the surgery.”
“I won’t attend.”
“You have to.”
“My daughter will be in the hospital.”
“You can vote by proxy.”
“Then I will.”
“Catarina will use your absence to argue you can’t lead the group.”
I look through the open bedroom door.
Manuela sits on the bed while Olívia brushes her hair.
“I don’t care.”
“You need to care about some part of the empire you intend to leave your daughter.”
“I’ll leave her something better than a company that demands she abandon her family.”
I hang up.
Manuela spends the day asking questions about marriage.
Why don’t we live together?
Why didn’t Olívia change her surname?
Why wasn’t there a party?
Why aren’t we taking a trip afterward?
“Because it is a different kind of marriage,” Olívia keeps repeating.
“Everything about you two is different.”
“Is that bad?” I ask.
“I don’t know.”
She thinks.
“Can I tell people at school?”
“Not yet,” Olívia says.
“Because it’s secret?”
“Because we want to wait until the press calms down.”
“Am I going to get brothers and sisters?”
Olívia chokes on her water.
Every muscle in my body locks.
“No,” she says.
“Never?”
“Manuela.”
“Lara got a baby brother after her mom got married.”
“This is different.”
“Because you don’t kiss.”
Olívia turns red.
I look away.
“Exactly,” she says.
“So no baby.”
“No.”
The firmness should end it.
Manuela looks at me.
“Did you want one?”
I have no idea how to answer without making things worse.
“Your mother said no.”
“I asked you.”
“Manuela,” Olívia warns.
“What?”
“Some questions are private.”
“He’s my dad.”
“Still private.”
My daughter waits.
“I always wanted more than one child,” I admit.
Olívia stares at me.
“You never told me that.”
The words leave her before she can stop them.
“I thought you knew.”
“You used to say you didn’t have time for children.”
“I said I would when I found the right person.”
The silence changes.
Manuela looks between us.
“Did you find them?”
Olívia stands.
“Medication time.”
The conversation ends.
The question doesn’t.
I found the right person.
And rejected her at the altar.
The night before Manuela is admitted, she asks me to read her favorite story.
The Princess Who Saves the Dragon.
I sit beside her bed.
Olívia stays in the doorway.
I am not nearly as good at voices as I promised.
My princess sounds like an elderly man.
The dragon sounds like an irritated executive.
Manuela laughs until she coughs.
I stop immediately.
“I’m okay.”
“Maybe we should stop.”
“No. The dragon is going to fall.”
“He can fall tomorrow.”
“You don’t know how to finish a story.”
“I do.”
“Then finish.”
I continue.
By the last page, Manuela is nearly asleep.
“The princess didn’t marry the prince,” she murmurs.
“No.”
“Because she saved herself.”
“Yes.”
“My mommy did too.”
I look at Olívia.
She doesn’t move from the doorway.
“She did.”
“And you’re the dragon.”
I almost smile.
“Apparently.”
“But the dragon gets good.”
“After nearly destroying the kingdom.”
“He helps rebuild it.”
My throat tightens.
“I’ll try.”
Manuela opens her eyes just enough to look at me.
“Don’t try. Do.”
Olívia smiles.
“Good night,” she tells her.
She kisses her forehead.
When Olívia leaves, I follow.
“She seems to think she can order redemptions,” I say.
“She gets that from you.”
“I thought the intelligence came from you.”
“The arrogance is entirely yours.”
“Fair.”
We stop in the hallway.
“Are you scared?” I ask.
Olívia looks toward the bedroom.
“Yes.”
“Me too.”
She seems surprised.
“You don’t have to hide it from me.”
“I’m not used to sharing.”
“You can start small.”
“One piece at a time?”
“Seems to work.”
Olívia extends her hand.
I don’t understand until her fingers find mine.
It is the first time she has touched me because she chose to.
I don’t kiss her.
Don’t step closer.
I simply hold on.
We stand like that in the dark hallway.
Two people married by contract.
Bound by fear.
And by the little girl sleeping between us.