The flight back to São Paulo was a gray, suffocating blur. The brief, incandescent reunion in Lisbon felt like a dream from which she was being violently awakened. Each hour in the air was another kilometer of distance being carved between them, another layer of the protective bubble they'd built around themselves being stripped away. When the plane finally touched down, the humid, heavy air of the city felt like a physical assault. São Paulo wasn't home anymore; it was the place where she waited.
The taxi ride through the familiar, chaotic streets was a form of torture. Every landmark—the bridge over the Pinheiros River, the distinctive silhouette of the Copan building, the gleaming towers of Avenida Faria Lima—was a reminder of the life she was returning to. A life that now felt like a poorly fitting suit, constricting and alien.
She let herself into her apartment. The silence was the first thing that hit her, a suffocating blanket after the constant, comforting presence of Lívia for the past two days. The air was stale, the surfaces were covered in a fine layer of dust, and the whole space felt cold and lifeless. It was a museum to a life she no longer recognized as her own.
She dropped her suitcase in the middle of the living room floor and stood there, adrift. The urge to crawl into bed and pull the covers over her head was overwhelming, a siren song of despair. But then, a different instinct took over. A flicker of defiance, a spark of the resolve she'd found in Lisbon.
She walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out at the sprawling cityscape that had once represented her entire world. It looked different now. Smaller. Less significant. It was a kingdom, but she was no longer its queen. She was a visitor, waiting for her visa to another world to be approved.
She pulled out her phone, her fingers moving with a new sense of purpose. She didn't look at her emails or work messages. She opened her calendar and scrolled to December, to the two-week holiday block she'd never been able to bring herself to plan for. With a few taps, she created a new event: "Lisbon." She didn't book a flight yet, just claimed the time. It was a statement. A stake in the ground.
Next, she opened her notes app. The page was blank, a terrifying and exhilarating canvas. She typed at the top: *Our Place*. Then she began to list, not with the dreamy haze of their conversation in the hotel, but with the sharp, analytical precision of a corporate lawyer plotting a merger.
- Objective: Acquire/develop a neutral, accessible property for shared use.
- Timeline Research phase: 3 months. Acquisition phase: 6-9 months.
- Financing Requires separate analysis. Joint account? Pre-nup style agreement? (Discuss with Lívia).
- Location Criteria:
- Proximity to major airports (Lisbon, Madrid, Barcelona, Milan, Nice).
- Access to nature (coastline AND mountains/hills).
- Favorable tax/climate for foreigners.
- Creative community nearby (for Lívia).
- Proximity to legal/financial hubs (for me, work-trip viability).
- Next Steps
Contact an international real estate agent. Research property laws in Portugal, Spain, Italy. Open a high-yield savings account, label it "The Future."
The list was cold, practical, and devoid of romance. But for Camila, it was the most romantic thing she had ever done. It was taking their beautiful, fragile dream and wrapping it in the armor of logic and planning. It was turning a wish into a strategy.
The next few days were a whirlwind of focused activity. She didn't retreat into work as a distraction; she attacked it with a new efficiency, clearing her schedule to make time for her new project. She spent her lunch breaks researching residency requirements in the European Union. She had a clandestine call with a financial advisor who specialized in cross-border investments. She even downloaded a language-learning app and started her first Portuguese lesson, feeling a foolish thrill at the simple phrase "Olá, como estás?"
She was building a bridge, stone by stone, across the ocean.
The first video call after her return was scheduled for Sunday evening. Camila was nervous in a way she hadn't been since her first court case. She'd cleaned the apartment, bought fresh flowers, and was wearing a cashmere sweater that made her feel both comfortable and confident.
When Lívia's face appeared on the screen, the world tilted back on its axis. She was in her small room in Lisbon, the light soft behind her. Seeing her, even through a screen, was like taking a breath after being underwater.
"Hey," Lívia said, her smile tentative but real.
"Hey," Camila replied, her own smile coming easily. "I miss you."
"I miss you more," Lívia countered. "My bed feels enormous without you in it."
"I have a solution for that," Camila said, trying for a light tone. "But it's a long-term project."
She tilted her laptop screen to show her the notes app on her phone, displaying her detailed list.
Lívia's eyes widened as she read. "Camila... what is this?"
"It's our plan," Camila said, her voice steady. "It's not just a dream anymore. It's a project. And I am very, very good at managing projects."
A slow, wondrous smile spread across Lívia's face. "You're serious."
"Deadly serious," Camila confirmed. "I've already scheduled my trip to see you in December. And I've started looking into property taxes in the Algarve."
Lívia laughed, a bright, genuine sound that filled Camila's apartment and banished the last of the ghosts. "You're insane."
"Maybe," Camila admitted. "But I'm an insane person with a plan. And that plan has you in it. Forever."
The conversation that followed was different from any they'd had before. It wasn't about missing each other, or the pain of being apart. It was about logistics and possibilities. They debated the merits of a coastal town in the Alentejo region versus a village in the hills of Andalusia. They talked about budgets and timelines. They were a team again, not two lonely individuals pining across a void.
When they finally hung up hours later, Camila felt a profound sense of peace. The distance was still there, the challenges were still immense, but it no longer felt like an insurmountable obstacle. It was just a variable in the equation. An equation she was now confident they could solve together. The silence in her apartment was no longer empty; it was filled with the quiet, steady hum of construction. The building of a future, brick by brick, across an ocean.