Chapter 31
The studio lights were hot, blinding. The sound of microphones being tested echoed through the room, and the candidates prepared to take the stage. The final debate before the election was about to begin.
Fernando adjusted his tie in front of the mirror, his expression serious. I watched him from the corner of the room, feeling the tension crackling in the air. Advisors huddled together, cell phone screens glowed with the latest campaign updates, and journalists waited to pounce on any slip-up.
“Ready?” I asked, walking up to him.
He smiled faintly.
“I was born ready.”
But I knew that look. He was focused, yes, but he also felt the weight of the final stretch. The attacks against him had intensified, and the name “Glória” was trending on Twitter almost as often as his own.
I ran my fingers gently over his suit, brushing away invisible dust.
“You don’t need to prove anything to anyone, Fernando. You’re already leading this race.”
“Yes, I do. I need to prove I’m the best choice for the state.”
I nodded, admiring that determination.
“Just don’t forget to breathe.”
He took my hand, squeezing it for a moment before letting go to take the stage.
The first few minutes were routine. The candidates presented their proposals, exchanged polite criticisms. But the moment the opposition got the chance, the attacks came.
“The governor has talked a lot about transparency, but how can we trust that when his own partner has been involved in so many controversies?” an opponent fired off, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Can you guarantee she has no influence over government decisions?”
Fernando smiled. A dangerous smile.
“I’ve always been transparent about who I am and how I govern. The issue here isn’t my partner—it’s your fear of having a strong woman by my side.”
The audience murmured. The opponent cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure.
“We’re not talking about sexism, Governor. We’re talking about facts.”
“Facts?” Fernando raised an eyebrow. “The same distorted ‘facts’ you used to attack Glória? The same tired, low-blow tactics? Voters want to hear about proposals. Let’s talk about that.”
The camera focused on the opponent, who looked hesitant. The moderators changed the subject, but I knew Fernando had already won that exchange.
The days that followed were a roller coaster. The polls showed Fernando surging ahead. The streets were filled with campaign flags and jingles.
And I… I felt the impact of all this intensely.
The attacks continued. The fake news, the malicious memes, the journalists hungry for sensationalist headlines. But something had changed. Now, instead of just hatred, there was support. Women stopped me on the street to say they saw themselves in me, that they admired my strength.
At the last major rally before the election, Fernando and I climbed onto a sound truck, surrounded by a crowd. When he took my hand, a shout echoed down the avenue:
“Glória, first lady!”
I looked at him, surprised. He just smiled and squeezed my hand tighter.
The election was coming.
And whatever happened, we were in this together.