Chapter 35
Life never slowed down for us.
Waking up every day to face the demands of the governor’s office, the tensions of politics, and the constant pressure from the media was already challenge enough.
But shortly after our wedding, something happened that changed everything.
The most important news—the most personal and intimate—arrived unexpectedly, yet with overwhelming force. I was pregnant.
The test sat there on the bathroom sink, and I could barely believe what I was seeing.
Fernando’s face mirrored exactly what I felt: a mix of surprise and immense tenderness.
My heart raced as I wondered if maybe it was all too much.
The world always seemed to be watching our every move.
I wasn’t prepared for what lay ahead, but the truth was that right there, in that small piece of plastic, was a new beginning. A new beginning for our family.
I didn’t know how to react. I hadn’t planned this pregnancy, and the way it revealed itself felt almost too cinematic.
But one thing was certain: Fernando was happy, and somehow, that calmed me.
He had always been by my side—caring, supporting—and now, with this surprise, once again he was there, ready to take my hand, just as he always had.
“I’m pregnant,” I said, my voice low but firm, as I sat beside him on the bed. His expression, confused at first, soon transformed into a smile so wide and pure it could have lit up the entire city.
“My God! I didn’t know how I’d react, but... Glória, you’re... I’m...” He couldn’t finish the sentence—emotion overwhelmed him. He hugged me so tightly I could barely breathe, but at the same time, I felt safer than ever.
When night fell, all the anxiety and confusion melted away in the quiet happiness that surrounded us. That moment alone together was magical and gentle. But we knew it wouldn’t last. Political reality, with all eyes on us, would catch up quickly. The news would spread like wildfire.
The next morning, the pressure had already begun—a gossip columnist announced what only Fernando and I had known.
The story took over social media and TV, and soon became the talk of the newspapers.
The pregnancy of Glória, the governor’s wife, couldn’t go unnoticed.
The entire nation was curious to see how the first lady would react, but people were also already speculating about what this would mean for Fernando’s political future.
The image of our family, now growing with the arrival of a child, became just another piece in the grand political game.
The first reactions were genuine congratulations, as expected.
But soon the speculation began: the pregnancy was a political move, a strategy to solidify the governor’s image as a family man, as someone serious and responsible.
I felt the weight of those words—the weight of being judged without even having the right to live my own story.
A woman’s pregnancy isn’t simply a joy; it’s an event that invites a thousand interpretations, a thousand judgments.
Online, things quickly got worse. The court of public opinion was in full swing.
Everything we said and did was turned against us.
I saw hateful messages being shared constantly, social media flooded with attacks trying to undermine our happiness.
One of the worst claimed my pregnancy had been orchestrated to attract female votes—a move to please the more conservative electorate.
I found myself accused of everything, even of being a manipulator.
With each insult, a new wave of speculation followed. Comments like “Glória just wants power,” “This pregnancy wasn’t planned—it’s just another political weapon,” and even crueler ones claiming my pregnancy was fake. I knew that in politics, attacks know no bounds. But even so, it still hurt.
Fernando was, as always, by my side. But what touched me most was seeing his expression—normally unshakeable—now clouded with anger. He felt powerless against such cruelty. It was hard, I knew, to watch his wife being attacked over something so personal.
“This is unbearable,” Fernando said one night, after we’d read the latest news. “They can’t do this to you, Glória. They can’t talk about us like this!”
He was furious. I knew how much these attacks hurt him too.
But at the same time, I watched him constantly trying to stay calm, trying to be rational, trying not to let the political side affect our relationship.
He knew what was at stake, but he also knew that what mattered most was the two of us—and now, our child.
When he went public with a response, my admiration for him grew even deeper.
He called a press conference. He was visibly tired but didn’t hesitate. His posture, firm and resolute, was that of a man determined to protect his family, his wife, and his future.
In front of the cameras, without beating around the bush, he began:
“My wife is pregnant. And this should be a cause for celebration. Yet some have chosen to turn this moment into an attack.”
Those words were a cry of resistance. The silence in the room was thick, and the journalists waited for more.
“Our family is not a pawn on the political chessboard. My wife and I have a life, and the decision to have a child wasn’t made to please anyone but ourselves. I will not tolerate attacks on her. She doesn’t deserve this.”
He paused, facing the crowd.
“This is my wife, who supports me unconditionally. Here she stands, pregnant, and I love her more than ever. Anyone who wants to discredit her should take a hard look at their own values. Because our family will always be stronger than any malicious insinuation.”
Fernando’s words echoed with a force that made me feel like everything, in the end, was worth it.
The impact was enormous. The opposition lost its momentum, and our family’s image wasn’t destroyed—it was reinforced.
But more than that, our unity was undeniable.
They could try to attack us however they wanted, but the truth of who we were was right there, defended by the strength of our love.
With the political storm still raging around us, the pregnancy continued, and joy filled our hearts. At every appointment, Fernando was there, holding my hand, his eyes shining with hope and happiness.
“Have you thought about names?” he asked me one day, after we left an appointment.
I smiled, seeing his face light up.
“If it’s a girl, I think we’ll call her Helena.”
“Helena. A strong name. I like it. And if it’s a boy?”
“We’ll name him Pedro. I’ve always liked that name.”
He smiled, and for a moment, the world outside disappeared. It was just the two of us, sharing dreams and hopes for the future.
The opposition tried to divide us, but we were stronger. The love we felt for each other, the strength of our union, was unbreakable.
And our greatest victory lay ahead.