Clara smiled at her reflection in the mirror as she adjusted her pearl earrings. The red silk dress hugged her curves with the delicacy of an unspoken compliment. Her hair was loose, with soft waves she had made herself that morning. All for him.

It was always for him.

Eduardo Vasconcellos. Her husband. Her great love. The man she had spent half her life trying to win over.

They had been married for almost three years, and Clara still felt that flutter in her stomach every time he came home, in his impeccable suit and woody perfume that she had learned to associate with desire and security. The same flutter she had felt since the time he barely knew her name.

While applying one last coat of lipstick, Clara glanced at her cell phone. No message from him since late afternoon.

"He must be swamped with work," she whispered to herself, ignoring the small discomfort that was beginning to grow in the pit of her stomach.

She floated lightly down the stairs of the house, almost floating, as if the simple act of being dressed up for him was a victory. In the living room, the table was set, with the food she had prepared herself—shrimp lasagna, Eduardo's favorite dish. Candles lit, wine breathing in the glass, soft instrumental music in the background.

She wanted to surprise him. She wanted that night to be a respite from his stressful routine. In recent months, he had been more absent, colder… but Clara refused to see that as a sign that something was wrong. For her, it was just another phase. Like so many others they had already overcome.

The clock struck eight in the evening. Then eight thirty. Nine.

Clara sent a message.

""Honey, is everything okay? I'm waiting for you.

No response.

She called. Voicemail.

Her hand began to tremble. She took a deep breath and forced herself to stay calm. She got up from the table, grabbed her cell phone, and went out to the balcony. The fresh night air felt colder than usual.

"He'll be here. He always is." she tried to convince herself, as she always did.

But deep down, an insistent and bitter voice began to whisper: "He won't be here. Not this time."

It was then that, almost instinctively, Clara went on Instagram.

The first thing that popped up was a story from an acquaintance in their social circle. A poorly focused photo... but clear enough for her to recognize the environment: the most sophisticated restaurant in the city. The same restaurant where Eduardo took her to dinner the night he proposed.

Only, this time... he wasn't with her.

Clara zoomed in on the image. Her heart raced.

There was Eduardo. Navy blue suit, white shirt, the usual smile... looking complicitly at the woman in front of him. A brunette with long hair, delicate face, wearing a black dress too tight to be just a friend.

The photo was from minutes ago.

Clara froze. For a moment, the world seemed to spin backwards. Her hands sweated, her legs threatened to give way. But instead of crying, she moved.

She went inside, grabbed her purse, the car keys… and drove.

The drive to the restaurant was a blur. The city lights flashed like streaks through the window. She barely felt her hands on the steering wheel. Only one certainty pulsed inside her: she needed to see with her own eyes.

She needed to be sure.

The restaurant was packed. Lots of beautiful people, cell phone flashes, crystal glasses. The kind of place where she and Eduardo used to be the model couple.

She entered with firm steps, as if she were any customer, feigning naturalness, as if her heart wasn't about to explode inside her chest.

And then she saw it.

There he was. Eduardo. Laughing, with his eyes full of something she hadn't seen in months. A sparkle that used to be hers.

The woman in front of him held his hand on the table. The waiter poured wine. The candles lit his face like in a movie scene.

Clara stopped a few feet away. She stood there, still. Invisible. As so many times in life.

Eduardo turned his face, as if he felt a shiver. And then, his eyes met hers.

His smile died instantly.

The other woman's face turned pale.

For a second, the entire room seemed silent.

Clara took a deep breath. She felt the bitter taste of disappointment rising in her throat. There were no tears in her eyes. Not yet.

She just smiled. A bitter, painful smile… and turned her back.

She left the restaurant without saying a word. Because, at that moment… she knew that silence hurt more than any scream.

And Eduardo… knew it too.

As she got into the car, Clara closed her eyes. Her hands were shaking, her heart seemed torn apart. But among the shards, something different began to be born.

A decision.

She didn't know what would come next. But one thing was certain:

The woman who spent her whole life chasing Eduardo Vasconcellos… Died that night.

Clara entered the house with her heart still racing and her hands trembling. The front door slammed shut behind her with a dry thud, echoing through the silent living room.

The smell of the lasagna she had prepared earlier still lingered in the air, mixed with the sweet aroma of the candles that were now burning to the end, with the tips almost turning to smoke.

She stopped in the middle of the living room, looking at everything around her as if she were an intruder in her own life.

The dinner table was still set.

The wine breathing in the glass.

The cutlery arranged perfectly, as if it were any ordinary night. As if she were still the wife he deserved.

But she wasn't.

Clara took a deep breath, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. She walked over to the bar in the living room, poured herself a generous dose of whiskey—even though she didn't like the drink—and downed it all at once. Her throat burned, but the pain was welcome. At least, it was a pain she could control.

The clock read almost midnight when she heard the sound of the lock turning.

Her body stiffened. The sound of the door being opened, the footsteps coming in… And then, as if nothing had happened, Eduardo appeared.

Coat over his shoulders, hair disheveled, the familiar scent of perfume mixed with a feminine aroma that wasn't hers.

He stopped when he saw her there, in the middle of the living room, still in the red dress and swollen eyes.

For a moment, his expression was one of pure shock. But he quickly recovered.

"Clara…" His voice was low, almost rehearsed. "I can explain."

She laughed. Low, bitter.

She ran a hand through her hair, not knowing whether to explode or laugh even more at his nerve.

"Explain?" She crossed her arms, staring at him. "Are you going to say that wasn't you at the restaurant? That I imagined everything? That that woman in the black dress wasn't holding your hand? Are you really going to treat me like an idiot until the end?"

Eduardo took a deep breath, running a hand over his face. He walked towards her, but Clara took a step back.

"It's not what you're thinking." He tried.

She snorted, incredulous.

"Really? Then tell me… what is it? A business dinner… complete with loving looks and intertwined hands?"

He was silent for a few seconds. Then, he sighed, as if he was too tired to sustain the lie.

"Clara… I didn't want it to be like this. I didn't want you to find out… this way."

She blinked, disbelieving.

"Oh, so the problem isn't the betrayal… it's the way I found out?"

Eduardo walked to the bar, poured himself a shot of whiskey, as if it were just another tough day at the office.

"I just… I don't know how to keep going the way it is." He stared at the glass for a few seconds before looking at her. "We fight about everything, you're always on top of me, controlling every step. It wasn't supposed to be like this, Clara. I need space."

She felt her blood boil.

"Space? You want space? Well, you should have asked before you stuck another woman in the middle of our marriage!"

The silence that followed was heavy.

Then, with the calmness of someone who has never had to deal with the consequences of their actions, Eduardo uttered the sentence that would change everything:

"Maybe what we need is… an open marriage."

The world stopped.

Clara blinked several times, thinking she had misheard.

"What?"

"That's exactly what you heard." He shrugged, as if he were talking about a trivial detail. "I don't want to hurt you, Clara… but I think we can find a new way to make this work. You have your life… I have mine… and we keep up appearances. Everyone wins."

Clara stared at him for long seconds.

He really thought she was going to accept that. That she was going to settle for crumbs. That she was going to continue being the submissive wife, who pretends she doesn't see.

She felt her heart break… but, along with the pain, came something new.

A cold rage. A pride she didn't even know she still had.

Clara took a deep breath, raised her chin… and smiled. A smile he had never seen before. A dangerous smile.

"Okay, Eduardo."

If that's what you want…

That's what you'll get.

She walked up the stairs to the bedroom with firm steps, leaving him standing in the living room, holding the glass of whiskey and with the confused expression of someone who didn't know that, that night… he had lost more than her trust.

He had lost… her.

The alarm clock rang at seven in the morning, as on every other morning of the last few years. But this time, Clara didn't turn it off immediately.

She lay there, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of the previous night still hovering over her like a suffocating blanket.

The side of the bed where Eduardo used to sleep was empty.

Maybe he had slept in the guest room. Or, who knows, maybe he hadn't even come back after she went upstairs. She didn't care. For the first time in a long time... she didn't care.

Clara got up slowly. She went to the mirror and stared at her own image.

Her eyes were swollen, her skin pale... but there was something new in her gaze. Something she barely recognized. A glimmer that wasn't of pain... it was of anger. Of decision.

She picked up her cell phone, opened the browser, and typed without much thought:

"Job Openings – Marketing – City Center"

She didn't know where to start... but one thing was certain: she needed to occupy her mind. She needed a plan. She couldn't depend on him for everything anymore. Not after everything.

In the kitchen, the smell of fresh coffee surprised her.

Eduardo was there, like a dedicated husband, fiddling with his cell phone with a cup in his hands.

"Good morning." He said, without lifting his eyes from the screen.

Clara stopped at the door, staring at him for a few seconds. His naturalness disgusted her.

"Good morning." She replied, dryly.

She grabbed a mug, poured coffee, and leaned against the counter, watching him out of the corner of her eye.

He was dressed as always: impeccable suit, perfectly aligned tie, hair slicked back. The same Eduardo that she loved for so long... but who now seemed like a stranger inside her own house.

"Did you sleep well?" He asked, as if he hadn't suggested, hours before, that they have an open marriage.

She took a deep breath.

"Wonderfully well." She replied, with an ironic smile.

He finally raised his eyes to her, clearly surprised by the answer. But he soon returned to his cell phone.

"I have an early meeting. I'm leaving now." He said, grabbing his car keys.

Clara just nodded, taking a sip of her coffee.

He went to the door, stopped for a second, as if he wanted to say something... but he didn't. He just left.

The sound of the door closing sounded like a sign of freedom.

After she was alone, Clara went to the bedroom, opened the closet and stared at the lined-up clothes. Delicate dresses, silk skirts, shirts she wore for social lunches, charity dinners, and meetings with her facade friends.

She picked up an old pair of jeans from the bottom of the drawer, a white T-shirt, and sneakers.

She looked at herself in the mirror and smiled slightly.

"Back to reality."

She sat down at the notebook and started updating her resume. It had been years since she had touched that document. In fact, since she had quit her job to "dedicate herself to the marriage," as Eduardo had suggested at the time.

She took a deep breath as she wrote her own name at the top of the file.

It was almost symbolic.

A new version of herself being born... there.

She spent the morning sending resumes to marketing agencies, consultancies, and even startups that she didn't even know. She didn't care about the position, the salary, nothing. What she wanted was to have a life beyond him. To have somewhere to go. To have a reason to leave the house every day.

In the early afternoon, while making a list of old contacts to reactivate, her cell phone vibrated.

A message notification.

Sender: Miguel Duarte

Clara froze.

Miguel...

The college friend.

The guy who, years ago, she always saw as "just a friend," but who today... suddenly... seemed like a comfortable memory.

The message was simple, but direct:

"I saw your resume on LinkedIn. Are you back on the market? If you want, I know some people. We can talk."

She smiled, for the first time in days.

The universe... was starting to conspire.

She put her cell phone in her pocket and, for an instant, felt her heart beat differently. Not for Eduardo. Not out of anger. But out of a new curiosity. Out of a lightness that she hadn't felt in a long time.

She knew the road would be long...

But, somehow... she was starting to like the idea of starting over.

And Eduardo...

He should get ready. Because that Clara...

No longer existed.

The rest of the afternoon passed slowly, but with a strange kind of relief. Clara kept busy sending resumes, reorganizing the desk she hadn't used in ages, and even researching online courses for professional development.

Each small gesture seemed like a victory.

A silent affirmation that she was, finally, regaining control of her own life.

Around six in the afternoon, she heard the sound of the electronic gate opening.

Eduardo was back.

Clara remained in the bedroom, sitting at the notebook, reviewing an old portfolio of campaigns she had done before she got married.

She heard the sound of the front door being opened, his footsteps in the hall, the sound of the key falling on the counter, as he always did.

Everything so the same... and at the same time, so different.

Minutes later, he appeared in the bedroom doorway.

"Have you been here all day?" Eduardo asked, leaning against the jamb, with that casual tone that annoyed her even more. "You didn't even come down for lunch."

She just glanced at him.

"I was busy." She replied, dryly.

He frowned.

"Busy... with what?"

She turned the notebook screen, letting him see the open resume, the job sites, the company tabs.

For an instant, Eduardo was silent, as if he didn't know what to say.

"You're looking for a job?" His voice carried a mixture of surprise and poorly disguised disdain.

Clara shrugged.

"Yes. I thought an open marriage would go better with an independent woman." Sarcasm dripped from every word.

He chuckled, a little nervously.

"Clara... you don't need this. You don't need to expose yourself to this kind of stress... of demands..."

"Don't worry." She interrupted him. "I can handle it."

He took a deep breath, running a hand over the back of his neck. He walked to the middle of the room, stopped behind her.

"You know I've always taken care of everything for you..."

She turned the chair slowly, facing him.

"You always wanted me to depend on you, Eduardo. But, from now on... that's over."

The two were silent for a few seconds.

He forced a smile, clearly uncomfortable.

"Clara... look... about yesterday... I know it was a shock. But... we can find a balance in all this. Without drama."

She laughed, this time without any humor.

"Without drama? After everything? After cheating on me blatantly and still having the courage to suggest this circus?"

"I'm just trying to be honest." He retorted, crossing his arms. "At least... I'm giving you options."

"Oh, thank you for your generosity." She got up from the chair, walked to the bedroom door, and, before leaving, cast one last glance over her shoulder. "You can rest assured, Eduardo. I'm going to take advantage of every one of these 'options' you've given me. And when you realize it... it'll be too late."

She left the room with her heart racing, but with her head held high.

For the first time in a long time, she felt like she had started breathing again.

And, deep down... she knew that that conversation had only been the beginning.

Because if Eduardo thought she was going to continue being the woman who lived in his shadow... he was very, very wrong.

Later that night, before going to sleep, Clara picked up her cell phone again.

She opened Miguel's message.

She read and reread it.

And finally replied:

"We can talk. Whenever you're available."

And, as she pressed the send button, Clara smiled.

This time... a real smile.

The cell phone notification flashed on the screen early, even before the alarm went off.

Miguel Duarte:

"Vila Central Cafe, 8am? I'll buy you coffee and we can talk. :)"

Clara smiled as she read.

Direct, gentle, simple. Just like Miguel had always been.

She looked at the clock: it was just past six in the morning. She still had time to get ready, but decided to get up right away. She was anxious... and for the first time in days, she felt alive.

She opened her wardrobe and, unlike the sophisticated dresses and outfits she usually wore for any outing, she chose dark jeans, a light fabric blouse, and a jacket. Simple, comfortable... more like her.

She tied her hair in a casual bun, put on a soft lipstick, and grabbed her bag.

As she walked downstairs, already with the keys in her hands, she found Eduardo in the kitchen, still in his pajamas, stirring his coffee. His hair was messy, as it always was when he didn't sleep well.

He looked up as soon as he saw her ready to leave.

"Are you going out?" The question came with that tone of surprise and slight discomfort that Clara was already beginning to recognize.

She nodded.

"I have an appointment."

He raised an eyebrow.

"At half past seven in the morning? Since when do you have appointments before ten?"

She smiled wryly, throwing the bag strap over her shoulder.

"Since yesterday."

Eduardo was silent for a second, watching her with the look of someone trying to decipher what was happening.

"Do you want me to give you a ride?" He asked, in a failed attempt to sound casual.

"No need. I can manage." She replied firmly.

She passed him without looking back, opening the front door with the lightness of someone who knew that, with each step, she was moving a little further away from that suffocating world.

On the way to the car, the fresh morning air hit her face and, for the first time in a long time, Clara took a deep breath... without the weight she usually felt in her chest.

She started the engine, tuned into a random playlist on the radio, and drove to the Vila Central Cafe.

The place was just starting to get crowded when she arrived. Some people were having coffee standing up in a hurry, others were reading newspapers or looking at their cell phones. The aroma of fresh coffee, grilled bread, and freshly baked croissants invaded her senses, bringing a feeling of warmth that she hadn't felt in a long time.

Miguel was already there, sitting at a table in the corner, facing the street. The same easy smile, the gentle look... as if time hadn't passed.

He stood up as soon as he saw her approaching.

"Clara Vidal... live and in color." He said, opening his arms for a light, but warm hug.

She laughed, reciprocating.

"Miguel Duarte... always punctual."

"Old habits." He winked at her and pointed to the chair in front. "Sit down. I already ordered two coffees, but if you want something else... it's on me."

She settled in, crossing her legs, still trying to assimilate how good it was to be there... with someone who simply liked her. No ulterior motives, no games.

"So..." Miguel began, resting his elbows on the table. "I saw that you updated your LinkedIn profile yesterday. I was curious. What happened? Career change or...?"

Clara hesitated for a second. Part of her just wanted to say that she was looking for new challenges... but she didn't have the energy for disguises anymore.

"Life change, actually." She replied, looking directly at him.

Miguel raised his eyebrows, surprised... but he didn't insist.

"Well... whatever the reason, know that I'm happy that you're starting over. And if I can help in any way... I'm here."

Clara felt a warm feeling in her chest.

"Thank you, Miguel. Really. You have no idea how much I needed to hear that."

He smiled, as he always did.

"Then let's start with the basics... tell me: what are you looking for?"

And, at that moment, as she described the positions she had in mind, the areas she would like to work in, and the projects she missed doing, Clara realized that she was, in fact... taking the first steps out of Eduardo's shadow.

As the conversation progressed, Clara felt the accumulated tension of the last few days beginning to dissolve. Talking about the market, about marketing strategies, about campaigns she admired... it all seemed to bring back a part of her that had been dormant for years.

Miguel listened carefully, asking questions, laughing with her, remembering stories from their college days.

"You always had that creative edge..." He commented, stirring his coffee cup. "I remember your presentation in the last semester... that one about the power of emotions in brand communication. I still use that example in my meetings."

She laughed, shaking her head.

"I don't even remember that anymore..."

"Well, I remember." He said, looking at her with a genuine smile.

For a moment, the two were silent. A comfortable pause. Unlike anything Clara had been used to lately.

Miguel fiddled with his cell phone, as if gathering courage to say what he was about to say. When he finally looked back at her, there was a different sparkle in his eyes.

"Clara... I'll be direct." He took a deep breath. "My agency needs a marketing coordinator. Someone who knows how to lead a team, think outside the box, take care of some strategic clients... And before you say anything... I know it's been a while since you've been in the market, but... I know your potential. I always have."

She froze for a second.

"Miguel... I don't know..." She began, with a nervous smile. "I'm totally rusty. I haven't worked in years. I don't know if I'm ready to..."

"Clara..." He interrupted her, with a firm voice. "You're more ready than you think. And, if you want... we'll start slowly. A trial period, a few weeks of adaptation... you feel the environment, see if you like it... and, if it doesn't work out, it's okay. No pressure."

She opened her mouth to answer, but the emotion caught in her throat for a second.

It was the first time, in a long time, that someone really believed in her... without charges, without demands, without games.

"So? What do you say?" He asked, resting his elbows on the table, waiting.

Clara took a deep breath. She felt her heart beat a little faster.

"I say... I accept." She smiled, feeling lighter than she had in weeks.

Miguel gave a broad smile, the kind of smile a friend gives when they are truly rooting for you.

"Great. So tomorrow, nine in the morning, at the agency. I'll introduce you to the team."

"Tomorrow? Just like that?"

"Better to start before you give up." He joked, winking.

The two laughed.

She grabbed her bag, ready to leave, but before she left, Miguel gently held her arm.

"Clara... I know you haven't told me everything that's going on... but just so you know... if you need someone to talk to, to vent... I'm here, okay? I always have been."

She felt her chest warm with that sentence.

"Thank you, Miguel. Really."

On the way back home, Clara could hardly contain her smile. Inside, it was as if a part of her... one she thought was dead... was slowly waking up.

As she parked in the garage, she turned off the car and took a deep breath.

She knew that, when she crossed that door... she would face Eduardo again, the failed marriage, and all the tension that still surrounded them.

But this time, she had something she didn't have before:

A plan.

A purpose.

And, who knows... a new story about to begin.

Eduardo was in the living room, on his cell phone, laughing at something she didn't care to know what it was.

When he saw her coming in, he stopped laughing for a moment, just watching as she passed right by him.

Clara went up the stairs with light steps, as if his weight no longer reached her.

And, for the first time in a long time... it was true.