Chapter 23 #2
The words “electoral base” hung in the air like a silent scream. I knew they meant nothing but the grip of a greater power, something Fernando could never fully control. It was the political machine saying that who he loved was irrelevant—but appearances couldn't be ignored.
Fernando looked at me with tired eyes, but I could see a decision forming. He knew this choice wasn't just about him, but about everything he'd achieved. It wasn't just about his future as a politician, but about our relationship—what we actually wanted.
“I can't distance myself from you, Glória,” Fernando said, finally breaking the silence.
His voice was firm, but not without a shadow of doubt.
He knew what was at stake, but I could see the sincerity in his eyes.
“I won't let them use me as a political pawn to satisfy their ambitions.
I won't pretend I don't have feelings, that I don't have a life beyond my projects.”
I took a deep breath and touched his hand on the table. It was a simple gesture, but full of meaning. He was telling me he'd rather face the hurricane of politics than surrender to those who tried to manipulate him.
The party president, who had been so sure of himself before, now seemed irritated by Fernando's response.
“So you’re going to compromise your image over this?
” he asked, almost challenging Fernando.
“You’re going to sacrifice everything we’ve built for a relationship that many see as a threat?
This can’t happen, Fernando. If you can’t get this under control, the party won’t be able to protect you. You know what’s at stake.”
Fernando stayed silent for a moment before looking up at the president.
“Then here’s what we’ll do, president. I’m going to keep doing my job.
I’m going to keep fighting for what I believe in.
And if my image is a problem, so be it. I won’t sacrifice who I am, and I won’t let anyone dictate how I live my personal life.
If that’s a risk, then that’s a risk. But I’m not playing by your rules. ”
The president looked furious, but he knew Fernando had made up his mind. This wasn’t just about politics for him. It was about his dignity, who he was as a man, and what he was willing to sacrifice—or not—to keep moving forward.
I looked at Fernando, my heart racing. There was a strength in him I hadn’t fully seen before, an unwavering conviction. In that moment, more than ever, I knew he would push forward no matter what.
“And you, Glória?” The president’s voice cut sharply as he turned to me, his eyes locked on mine as if I were the key player in this standoff. “Are you going to step away to protect Fernando’s image, or are you going to own up to this and face the consequences?”
All eyes turned to me, but my decision was already made.
“I’m not stepping away, president. I’m not playing this game. What we have is real, and if it has to be exposed, so be it. Pretending I feel less than I actually do wouldn’t be fair to Fernando. Or to myself.”
The silence that followed was absolute. The decision was sealed. There would still be battles, challenges, and judgments ahead, but one thing was certain: we weren’t backing down.
“Glória, where’s your head?” The president’s voice dropped lower, but it was full of reproach. “This kind of impulsive behavior—I expect it from Fernando, but from you? You’ve always been the sensible one.”
I held his gaze.
“I love him. And I can’t shape what I feel to fit political convenience. We’re not getting married to calm public opinion, and we’re not stepping away to please people who never truly cared about us. What we feel isn’t for sale.”
“What is Fernando doing to you? You’ve always been the clearest thinker among us. The woman who understood the nuances of power, who knew when to pull back and when to push forward.”
“And I still am that woman,” I countered, lifting my chin. “But this time, I’m not dealing with a project, a negotiation, or a political opponent. I’m dealing with what I feel.”
He ran a hand over his face, visibly impatient.
“Glória… What you feel is important, of course. But you understand this isn’t just about the two of you? We’re talking about public trust. Voter opinion. A legacy that could be destroyed by a scandal that didn’t have to happen!”
“This isn’t about avoiding a scandal, president.
It’s about hypocrisy.” My voice came out steady, charged with something I hadn’t even known was there until now.
“It’s about how all of Brazil accepts a powerful man having mistresses, but won’t accept a widower moving on with someone without having to hide. ”
Murmurs from around the room betrayed the growing tension. But I didn’t stop.
“Fernando didn’t do anything wrong. He lost his wife. He moved on. But to the party, to the media, this needs to be shaped in a way that pleases everyone. I refuse to be shaped. I refuse to pretend I feel more or less for him depending on what works better for the political narrative.”
Fernando took my hand. The touch was brief but full of meaning. He knew this wasn’t easy for me. That I’d never been one to put myself out there like this. But he also knew I wouldn’t back down.
“So what’s the solution, then?” the president insisted, crossing his arms. “Because if you want to move forward, you need to give us an answer. The party needs a plan.”
Fernando took a deep breath before speaking.
“The plan is simple: we keep living our lives. The projects, the administration. If you want me to prove my worth, I’ll do it through my work. Not my personal life.”
“Fernando…” the president began, but Fernando cut him off.
“I’m not asking for permission. I’m informing you.”
The silence that followed was heavy.
I knew this wasn’t the end of the discussion. I knew the political machine would find a way to handle this, to try to soften the blow. But I also knew that, for the first time in a long time, Fernando and I were writing our own story.
And no amount of politics in the world could change that.