The week leading up to Lívia's final presentation was a flurry of activity and nerves. The residency had become her entire world, a microcosm of ambition, creativity, and pressure. Her project, the community center, had evolved into something she was immensely proud of, a design that was both functional and deeply humanistic. Camila's impending, secret visit was the light at the end of the tunnel, the reward she was desperately looking forward to.
Inês had been a constant, supportive presence. She was Lívia's sounding board, her late-night work partner, her friend. She brought Lívia coffee when she was slumped over her models, offered sharp, insightful critiques, and listened patiently to Lívia talk about Camila, her voice a mixture of love and longing.
"You're glowing," Inês observed one afternoon as they worked side-by-side in the studio. "It's the impending reunion, isn't it?"
Lívia smiled, a blush creeping up her neck. "Maybe. She's working so hard to make this happen."
"She's a lawyer, right? They're good at making things happen," Inês said, her tone light. But a flicker of something—calculation, maybe—crossed her eyes. "It must be hard, though. The age gap. The different worlds."
"We make it work," Lívia said, not wanting to have the same conversation again.
"I'm sure you do," Inês replied, turning back to her own work. "It's just... a lot. For her. To be starting over like this at her age."
The comment was a small pinprick, but Lívia brushed it off. Inês was just being practical, like she always was.
Later that day, Lívia was called into a meeting with the residency directors, leaving her laptop open and unattended on the worktable. Inês hesitated for only a moment, glancing around the nearly empty studio. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She knew this was a violation, a betrayal of a friendship she genuinely cherished. But she also saw a chance, a desperate, selfish chance to save Lívia from a fantasy she was convinced would only end in heartbreak.
She sat down at Lívia's laptop, her fingers flying across the keyboard. She opened Lívia's messaging app and scrolled to the conversation with Camila. Her jaw tightened as she read the recent exchange—the plans, the promises, the tender "first plank" message. It was so sincere, so naive. So fragile.
She began to type, her hands trembling slightly. She adopted Lívia's casual style, but injected a poison she knew would hit Camila where she was most vulnerable.
*Hey, sorry I've been so distant. This presentation is killing me. But it's also made me think. A lot.*
She paused, then continued, her fingers more decisive now.
*Inês is right. This whole 'our place' thing is a fantasy. A beautiful one, but a fantasy. We live in different worlds, Camila. You have your life in São Paulo, your career, your world. I have mine here. I'm young. I need to build *my* life, not just be an extension of yours.*
The words felt cruel, even to her, but she pushed on, believing it was for the best.
*I love you. I think I always will. But love isn't always enough. I can't be your retirement plan. I can't be the person you visit when you escape your real life. I need to be someone's *real life*. And I'm not sure I can be that for you. I think we need to be realistic. Maybe this break should be more permanent.*
She hit send before she could lose her nerve. A wave of nausea washed over her. She quickly deleted the sent message from Lívia's side of the conversation, leaving only Camila's replies. Then, she went into the application's cache and cleared the recent history, a trick she knew from a past relationship. She closed the laptop and stood up, her legs feeling unsteady. When Lívia walked back into the studio a few minutes later, Inês was staring at a blueprint, her expression perfectly normal.
"Everything okay?" Lívia asked.
"Just fine," Inês said, forcing a smile. "They like your design?"
"They love it," Lívia said, her face lighting up. "They think it has real potential."
Inês's heart twisted. "That's amazing, Lívia. Truly."