Take a deep breath, Malia. Just breathe and keep going.
I gather my courage and step out of the car, following Eduardo to the door of the massive mansion with Sofia in my arms. We spent the weekend with my family, and it was wonderful—Eduardo got along really well with my brothers. Now, on Sunday evening, we've come to have dinner with his parents.
— Don't be nervous. Come on. — he says, taking my hand and opening the front door.
As we walk in, I try not to stare too much. I don't want to feel overwhelmed and end up looking intimidated or rude. We pass through an entry hall and step into an open living space, heading toward the dining room. From there, we cross a wide doorway where Eduardo leans in and smiles.
— Hi, Mom.
He leads me inside.
The kitchen is huge, but what catches my attention is the woman standing by the counter. She looks very young, but the resemblance to Eduardo is unmistakable.
— Eduardo, finally! You're here. — she says, walking over to hug her son before turning to me with a bright smile. — Good evening, dear. You're absolutely stunning, and your daughter is adorable. What's her name? — she asks, gently touching Sofia's cheek.
I smile, proud of my little girl.
— Good evening. Her name is Sofia.
Hearing her name, Sofia covers her mouth and lets out a soft giggle.
— Bling! — she says, pointing at the earrings sparkling on Eduardo's mother.
Sofia doesn't talk much yet. Even at two years old, she only knows a few words. I had mentioned taking her to a speech therapist, but Henrique's mother completely dismissed the idea, insisting it was normal.
— Oh my goodness, how adorable! Do you like my earrings, sweetheart? — Denise asks, reaching out as if asking permission to hold her.
— She seems to have great taste. She liked my watch too. — Eduardo says, placing a hand on my lower back and guiding me closer.
— It's a pleasure. I'm Denise. I got so distracted by your daughter that I forgot to introduce myself. — she says with a laugh.
— I'm Malia. The pleasure is mine.
— Oh, Malia, it's been so long since we've had children in this house. — Denise says, playing with Sofia.
— You mean a baby. We still have Amanda. Speaking of which, where is she? — Eduardo asks.
— Oh, dear... I think she's feeling a bit jealous. Your father and I thought it would be best to give her some space. We let her stay over at a friend's house. — Denise says.
I feel Eduardo tense beside me.
— Mom, she's just making a scene. And I doubt she's actually at a friend's. You should've called me.
— She's only sixteen, Eduardo. She lost her parents, and now you show up with someone new. She might feel like she's being replaced. — his mother says gently.
I don't dare interrupt.
Eduardo sighs, running a hand through his hair.
— Where's Dad?
— In the office. Go get him so we can eat.
— I'll be right back. — he says, kissing my forehead before leaving.
— It's good to see my son with someone. — Denise tells me. — He carries so much weight on his shoulders.
I wonder if that's one of the reasons he chose an arranged marriage.
— Eduardo has been very good to me and Sofia. — I say carefully, sticking to the truth.
— He'll be a wonderful husband. He already told us about the wedding. Please, let me know if you need help with anything. It would be a joy to help you. — she says, taking my hand.
— I'd love that. I honestly don't even know where to start.
— Come, I think dinner is ready. Let's sit and talk while the men join us.
Instead of going to a formal dining room, we head outside. Past the pool, there's a large table set beautifully on the patio.
— I thought we could eat out here. The night is lovely, and I wanted to do something special for my future daughter-in-law. — she says excitedly. — Sit, sit. Have you talked about the wedding? Set a date?
— Eduardo wants a big wedding. We haven't chosen a date yet, but we thought maybe two months would be enough... I think. — I say, unsure.
— First, you need the date, but that comes after choosing the venue. If it's a church wedding, you'll need to check the priest's availability. If it's somewhere else, then the date is more flexible.
— I think a church wedding would be best.
I always dreamed of that. When I married Henrique, we just signed papers. At the time, that was enough. But now… I want something more.
— Oh, wonderful! You could get married at the Cathedral of St. Victoria. My daughter got married there. Eduardo would love it.
A cathedral?
— The one that fits around seven hundred people? Downtown? — I ask, stunned.
— That's the one. It's breathtaking.
I just nod.
— What are you doing this week? We could start planning together—unless Eduardo wants to be involved. What do you think, dear? — she asks as he returns with another man.
I immediately know it's his father. They have the exact same eyes.
— Before we continue, Malia, let me introduce my father. Dad, this is Malia, my fiancée.
— It's an honor to meet you, sir. — I say, shaking his hand.
— The pleasure is mine. You're both lovely. And you must be little Sofia. — he says, gently patting her hand. — Let's sit, eat, and talk.
I sit down again, and Eduardo takes the seat beside me.
— We were talking about the wedding. — Denise says. — Do you have any requests?
— Mom, as long as Malia shows up at the altar, she has full control over everything else. — he says, taking my hand.
I feel my cheeks heat up.
— How sweet. I doubt she'll run away. — his father says with a smile.
— Since Eduardo isn't getting involved, Sofia and I will handle everything. I'm so excited… I'm finally marrying off another child—
She stops suddenly when a noise comes from the side. I turn and see a girl—Amanda—walking in through the back.
The moment she notices us, she looks away and storms inside.
— I thought she was at a friend's. — Heitor says.
— I'll go talk to her. Keep eating. — Eduardo says, getting up.
— She looks so much like her mother… sometimes it scares me. — Denise murmurs.
But I'm not really listening.
I'm thinking about Amanda.
There was something in the way she avoided us… something she was trying to hide.
I try to focus on Sofia, feeding her calmly, but I can't shake the feeling.
Something isn't right.