A few more months went by...
I ran into Cássio in the office hallway.
"I went to church," he told me quietly. "Not my current church—my old one, near my house. The pastor prayed for me..."
"That's good! Did he see anything?"
"Yes. He said my head was black. And honestly, that's exactly how it feels—a constant pressure in my head."
He gestured around his head with one hand and grimaced in pain.
"What you have is spiritual. There's a demon at work in your life. You need to start praying and fasting. What else did he see?"
"A doll. It looked like a witch. It was wearing a hat..."
"Do you remember that dream I told you about? There was a witch doll in it!"
"Yeah, I remember that now."
"If you've ever gotten involved with something in the past..."
"It stays with you, doesn't it?" he finished.
"Yes. Pray for it to be cast out. It could even be that a woman you were involved with—and later rejected—put some kind of curse on you."
He glanced to the side, his expression distant, as though searching through old memories.
"And there's something else," I continued. "Whenever you travel during Carnival—I don't know where you go, but you always come back with company. If someone is carrying something dark and lays a hand on me, I can see it."
He fell silent, deep in thought.
Then we returned to work.
Later that day, I sent him a message.
"Hi. What did you think about the possibilities I mentioned today?" I asked, curious because he hadn't offered any opinion at the time.
"Hi. I agree with everything. Thank you."
"You didn't say a word... you're such a mystery."
"I don't have anything to say. Only gratitude."
"If you ever need to talk, feel free."
"I know. I'm just reserved. It's my nature."
"I know. So am I."
That year, for the first time, Cássio spent Carnival somewhere different.
Two months later, he sat down beside me.
"I'm going to send you a picture," he said, scrolling through his phone.
"It just came through," I replied.
In the photo, Cássio was kneeling at the altar while a priest rested both hands on his head in blessing.
A wave of surprise and joy washed over me.
"The priest at my church is blessing me," he said excitedly. "I've been appointed to organize the spiritual retreat!"
"Congratulations!"
"I wanted you to know," he confessed, tears glistening in his eyes beneath a broad smile. "I wanted you to be proud of me."
"I'm incredibly proud of you. You have no idea how happy this makes me," I said, fighting back tears.
"You know me..." he continued. "I talk to everyone. I know everybody. That's why they chose me. It's a huge responsibility—hundreds of people will be there. Honestly, I'm a little scared."
He placed a hand over his heart.
"God equips those He chooses. Don't worry. Everything will work out. I'll be praying for you."
"Thank you. I feel calmer now."
After the retreat weekend, Cássio sent me another message.
"Good morning! It was a success! The Holy Spirit guided me and helped me create an incredible retreat. The priest congratulated me and said it was the best retreat our church has ever had!"
"In my heart, I knew it would go well. Congratulations!"
"Kisses."
"Kisses."
Later, my mother called, and I told her the news.
"The ending of this story makes me so happy," I said enthusiastically. "What a surprise! My friend—a servant of God!"
"That's good..." she replied thoughtfully.
"And what's strange is that all I feel for him now is friendship. A genuine friendship. It's as if every feeling I once had was pulled out by hand, like it never existed at all."
"Your friend..."
"He's changed. He's much more restrained now. I think he must be in a serious relationship because he told me he's not dating around anymore."
"He has two faces."
"What do you mean?"
"He shows one side of himself to you and another to everyone else. Two faces. He's hiding something."
"Like what?"
"Your friend receives attention not only from women, but from men as well."
"I can imagine."
"He received an offer from a man—and he was very tempted."
"Did he accept?" I asked, instantly curious.
"A mystery," she replied. "It wasn't revealed. All I can tell you is that he seriously considered it."
A few weeks later, I spotted Cássio sitting in the coffee lounge.
I remembered I needed to talk to him about a problem with a spreadsheet.
I sat down beside him.
He quickly exited a messaging app, and for a split second, a photo flashed across the screen.
Just as quickly, he slipped the phone into his pocket and stared at the floor.
I laughed inwardly, and we continued our conversation as though nothing had happened.
When I got home, I called my mother, eager to tell her.
"So... in the photo, his head was resting against another man's head," I said, laughing.
"Are you sure that's what you saw?"
"Ninety percent sure. It happened very fast."
"It wouldn't surprise me. These days, people are much more open about things. It could have been a friend."
"It could have been! Thank God nothing ever happened between us. Otherwise, I might be getting replaced by someone else right now. What heartbreak that would have been..."
"We'll never know for sure."