Epilogue
The stage was immense. As always, the glare of the lights, the roar of the crowd, and the heat of the cameras surrounded me, but something felt different this time.
Maybe it was the weight of what was about to happen, the sense that my life—our life—was changing once again.
Not just for us, but for all of Brazil. I knew this wasn’t the end of a journey, but only the beginning of something even greater.
I held Fernando’s hand—the man who, over the years, had become not only the love of my life but also the symbol of a stronger, more just Brazil.
His presidential candidacy surprised no one, but in that moment, as he climbed onto the stage with determination, his gaze steady and his bearing that of someone who had already achieved everything possible within S?o Paulo, I understood what it truly meant: he was ready. More than ever.
The crowd erupted in applause as he approached the microphone, and I felt the weight of that responsibility on my shoulders too.
All of Brazil was watching, and I couldn’t help thinking about everything we’d been through.
Every battle, every triumph, the victories that had seemed impossible, the hard times that had only brought us closer.
It wasn’t just the political wins that came to mind, but how we’d transformed our story together.
“Good evening, Brazil!” Fernando’s voice echoed through the arena. He was confident, his speech brimming with the energy of promised change. “This is the moment!” I thought. He was about to take the next step, and I knew I stood by his side in every decision he made.
The camera focused on us, the exact scene everyone had been waiting for: Fernando, me, and Helena in his arms—the family Brazil had always dreamed of holding up as an example.
But there was something more in that moment.
It wasn’t just about him or about me. It was about us as a whole.
Our unity. Our strength. Fernando, Helena, and me, together, as a promise of a future built on love, respect, and commitment to justice.
Gradually, I let go of the feeling of being watched by so many people. I turned to look at Fernando, who smiled at me and, in a spontaneous gesture, kissed my forehead before turning back to the audience. His strength drew me in, made me believe even more in our purpose.
Helena, cradled in his arms, seemed curious about everything around her, but when she spotted one of her toys in the distance, the nanny waiting nearby quickly whisked her away.
She was safe, comfortable, wearing the smile of a child who knew she was loved.
I knew that what we wanted most was a future for her, a better world where she could grow up and live in peace.
Meanwhile, Fernando continued his speech.
I listened closely, but my mind wandered, reflecting on everything we’d achieved.
The years we’d spent side by side, the conversations about what we wanted for Brazil, the challenges, the joys, and the losses.
Each had been a step toward what we saw today: a man ready to govern the country with the same passion and determination he’d brought to S?o Paulo.
But I knew our journey was only beginning.
Despite what many assumed, I wasn’t by his side merely as the wife who tagged along.
I was his partner, someone who knew the real work was starting now, and that politics, with all its traps and pitfalls, would demand more from us than ever before.
I’d learned that over the past few years.
We had to stand together, more than ever, if we wanted to reach our ultimate goal.
The sound of the crowd intensified. I felt the energy of all those people like fuel, something pushing us forward, as if Brazil itself were saying, “Let’s go together.
” Every word from Fernando was met with applause, and the pride in his voice was unmistakable. He was ready to be president of Brazil.
But while he spoke about the future, about his plans, my mind drifted back to Helena.
I knew he would do everything to give her a better life, free from the obstacles and struggles he’d faced.
He was doing this for her, for our family, but also to make Brazil a place where she could grow up—a place with more opportunities and less inequality.
In that moment, I realized how worthwhile everything we’d been through had been. The struggles, the victories, the moments of fragility and strength. Each one had brought us here, and now we were stronger than ever.
Fernando finished his speech and raised his arm confidently as applause washed over him, the crowd cheering along.
I stood by his side, holding his hand. I didn’t need to say anything.
Brazil knew what he represented and what he could offer the country.
He didn’t need to prove anything to anyone anymore—Brazil, with all its energy and hope, had already decided.
And that night, as the lights shone around us, I felt relief for the first time in a long while.
The future was uncertain, but our strength, our love, and what we saw in our daughter gave us courage.
I didn’t know what the coming years held, but I knew one thing: this was our fight, and we were ready for it.
Later, in the comfort of our home, after the celebration and the chaos, when the last interview had ended and the last camera switched off, we found ourselves alone.
Fernando was beside me, a quiet smile on his face, and I could see the relief of having made the decision written all over him.
He pulled me closer, and as always when we were alone, it was as if the whole world disappeared.
“Now it’s our turn, Glória,” he whispered, his voice intimate. I knew he wasn’t just talking about his candidacy, but about the two of us, about everything we’d achieved together.
“I thought my turn would never come.”
The room felt like an oven, the thick, humid air heavy with the salty scent of our sweat and the ragged rhythm of our breathing.
Fernando lay on the bed, his broad chest glistening with a thin sheen of perspiration, rising and falling rapidly, his dark eyes blazing with desire as they held mine.
I climbed on top of him, feeling the heat radiating from his skin, rough and hot against the inside of my thighs.
I positioned myself, my legs trembling with anticipation, and lowered slowly, the feel of him sliding into me with a slow, delicious pressure that made my core clench and a hoarse moan escape my throat, echoing off the walls.
“Fuck, Glória, you're so damn hot,” he murmured, his deep voice rumbling through my chest like distant thunder.
His hands, large and calloused, slid up my back, fingers blazing trails across my skin before gripping my waist hard, the pressure almost bruising.
He pulled me closer, and I started moving, riding him at a rhythm that made my muscles burn, the wet slap of our bodies mixing with the creak of the bed.
“You like that, don't you?” I teased, my voice breathless between gasps as I threw my head back. My hair fell loose, brushing my bare shoulders like a soft caress as I picked up the pace, pleasure rising in hot waves that made my toes curl. “Then show me.”
He didn't answer with words. Instead, he leaned forward, his damp hair brushing my chest before his mouth found my nipple.
The wet heat of his lips wrapped around me, and when he sucked, it was like electricity shot through me, sparking from my spine to the back of my neck.
I arched my back, a loud, shaky moan escaping me and filling the room.
“Yes, Fernando, fuck, don't stop!” My voice came out broken, ragged, almost a scream as I moved faster, my hips grinding in a frantic rhythm.
I felt the rough scrape of his beard against my sensitive skin, the heat of his tongue burning me, each suck sending pulses of pleasure that made my whole body shake.
“You're so fucking hot, Glória,” he grunted, the sound vibrating against my chest. His teeth grazed my nipple before he sucked harder, the contrast between the slight sting and the pleasure making my head spin. “I'm almost there—make me come like this.”
The urgency in his voice was like gasoline on a fire. I grabbed his shoulders, nails digging into firm flesh, feeling his muscles tense under my fingers as our rhythm turned wild. Sweat ran between my breasts, dripping onto him, and the heat deep in my belly grew—a ball of lava ready to explode.
“Come with me, then,” I panted, the air burning my dry throat. “I want to feel you come.”
He let out a guttural, almost animal groan that rippled through my entire body.
His hands squeezed my waist so hard I felt his fingers dig into my flesh, and then he let go, his pulsing heat flooding me as his body shuddered beneath me.
That was the trigger. Pleasure crashed into me like a violent wave, my vision blurring, blood roaring in my ears as I screamed, the sound echoing through the room.
My muscles clenched in spasms, ecstasy ripping through me as I kept moving, drawing out every second of that storm.
For a moment, we stayed frozen there, bodies pressed together, sweat running in rivulets between us, the musky scent of sex hanging in the air. I collapsed onto his chest, his heart pounding against my ear, and let out a low, husky laugh, still feeling the echoes of pleasure dancing across my skin.
“You're dangerous, Fernando,” I murmured, my lips brushing his neck, tasting the salt on his skin.
He laughed, a deep, satisfied sound, and pulled me into a slow kiss, his lips hot and soft against mine, our tastes mingling and making me sigh.
“Brazil couldn't have a better first lady than you. I love you.”
“I love you too, future president.”