The café buzzed with the evening crowd, but at their small table in the corner, the world felt muted. Lívia had been uncharacteristically quiet since Camila arrived, pushing a fork through the remains of her dessert.
"I have to tell you something," she said finally, looking up from her plate. Her eyes held a nervous energy that Camila hadn't seen before. "It's... good news. I think."
Camila placed her napkin on the table, giving Lívia her full attention. "Okay."
Lívia took a deep breath. "You know that international design residency I applied for? The one in Lisbon?"
Camila nodded slowly, a premonition crawling up her spine.
"I got it!," Lívia squeals, a smile breaking through her anxiety. "It's a six-month position. Starting in October. It's... everything, Camila. Working with the architects I've only read about, getting international experience, building a portfolio that could actually mean something."
The joy in her voice was palpable, genuine. It made the cold knot forming in Camila's stomach feel like a betrayal. She forced a smile. "Lívia, that's incredible. That's what you've been working toward."
Lívia's smile faltered slightly. "That's it? That's all you have to fucking say?"
"What do you want me to say?" Camila asked, her voice carefully measured. "I'm proud of you. Truly."
"I want to know what you feel," Lívia pressed, her gaze direct and unwavering. "Not just what you think would sound supportive."
The directness disarmed her. Camila looked away, at the swirl of milk in her cooling coffee. "Feelings are complicated," she said quietly.
"Try me," Lívia challenged.
Camila sighed, the sound heavy. "I feel terrified," she admitted, the words tasting like defeat. "I feel like I'm standing on a platform and watching the train pull away with the only person who's made me feel truly seen in years. Is that what you wanted to hear?"
Lívia's expression softened. "It's a start I guess.. BUT it's noted."
"Part of me is screaming to tell you not to go," Camila continued, the confession now flowing more freely. "But the louder part, the part that remembers destroying a marriage by being selfishly focused on my own career, knows that I have no right. That I should be cheering the loudest, supporting you completely, even if it means..." She couldn't finish the sentence.
"Even if it means what?" Lívia prompted gently.
"Even if it means we don't survive it," Camila finally forced out, her voice barely above a whisper.
Lívia reached across the table, her hand covering Camila's. "This isn't Helena, Camila. I'm not her. And you're not the same person you were then."
"Aren't I?" Camila pulled her hand back. "The fear feels the same. The selfish impulse to ask you to stay feels the same."
"The difference," Lívia said, her voice firm but kind, "is that I'm asking you to come with me. Not to Lisbon. But through this. To trust that what we have is strong enough to handle six months and a few thousand miles."
The choice she presented was stark and terrifying in its simplicity: retreat into old fears or step into the unknown together.