Episode 1

The alarm clock rang at exactly 6:00 AM. Laura Moura took a few seconds to gather the strength to open her eyes. The bed was narrow, the mattress already worn, but her daughter was sleeping soundly beside her, nestled like a small bird.

Maria Eduarda, only three years old, breathed peacefully, dark hair spread across the pillow.

Laura carefully slid out of bed, avoiding waking her. She adjusted the simple knit nightgown over her slender body and went straight to the kitchen. The walls of the small apartment showed signs of dampness, the ceramic floor was worn, she could feel it under her bare feet.

While putting the water on to boil, she looked out the window. The day had not yet fully dawned, but she already felt the weight of the hours to come.

The routine started early and ended late...

It had been like this for almost three years, since Maria Eduarda's father disappeared as easily as he appeared. Leaving promises and a daughter in the arms of a 20-year-old woman, full of broken dreams.

Laura had no time for revolt or regret. She was alone, always had been, and needed to survive. And for Laura, surviving meant doing whatever was necessary: selling sweets during the day, dancing at night...

She swallowed her shame in the second month of overdue rent.

She kept her pride stored at the bottom of a drawer, next to the clothes that no longer fit.

She made breakfast, set aside two pieces of cornmeal cake that she had baked the night before, one for herself and one for Maria Eduarda. Then she began assembling the little boxes of brigadeiros and beijinhos, which she would take to sell in the city center.

Each sweet was handmade, rolled with care, as if they were little treasures. And, in a way, they were.

Each one of them paid for a piece of the rent, a diaper, a doctor's appointment, rice and beans.

At seven o'clock, Maria Eduarda woke up. She had large, curious brown eyes and her voice still slurred with sleep. Laura picked her up and took her to the bathroom.

The bath was quick, but full of affection. She dressed her in a pink dress with a heart print and tied her hair in two pigtails, as her daughter liked.

After breakfast, the two crossed the building's hallway and knocked on Dona Zuleide's door. The widowed and lonely lady lived alone in the apartment almost in front of Laura's. Since Maria Eduarda was one year old, Zuleide started taking care of her, in exchange for a small amount per month and, more than that, company and affection.

"Good morning, Laurinha," said the lady, with a welcoming smile, "everything is ready here. You can leave the little one with me."

Maria Eduarda ran into the apartment, already familiar with the sofa full of cushions and the smell of corn cake coming from Zuleide's oven.

Laura smiled gratefully, she didn't know what she would do without Dona Zuleide in her life, and she knew deep down that that lonely lady liked to spend her days with Maria Eduarda.

"I'll be back in the late afternoon, before I go to the other job," she said, handing over the bag with her daughter's belongings.

"Go with God, my child. And take good care of yourself," replied Zuleide, making the sign of the cross on the girl's forehead, as she always did. "Today will be your lucky day..."

The sun was already shining weakly in the sky when Laura left with the backpack on her back and the box of sweets in her arms.

She took the crowded bus towards the center and, as usual, got off two blocks before the main square. There, between the wooden benches and the trees mistreated by time, she found her customers: office workers, young students, mothers with children...

With a discreet smile, she offered the sweets, one by one. Many already knew her, praised the quality of the product, others stopped and asked about her daughter, some bought two or three extra brigadeiros to help. Others pretended not to hear her, looked away, hurried their pace.

Laura had already learned not to take it personally. On the street, everyone has their rush, their problems... their pains.

At noon, she sat on a bench in the square to eat the sandwich she brought from home. She drank water from a small bottle, looked at the clock and sighed. She had two more hours until she returned home.

The sun was beating on her face, and she thought about how nice it would be to be able to stay there, still, just feeling the warmth and the wind.

But the thought was brief. Time to go back for another round of sales.

At 4:00 in the afternoon, she returned home. She took a bath, washed the clothes and hung them on the clothesline near the window. Then, she prepared Maria Eduarda's dinner: rice, beans, carrots and egg.

She picked up Maria Eduarda at Dona Zuleide's apartment, then the two of them sat at the small kitchen table and ate together.

The girl, cheerful, talked about cartoons, swung her legs and laughed at her own stories.

It was for her that Laura resisted.

It was for her that she still dreamed.

After dinner, she gave her daughter a bath and laid her down on Dona Zuleide's sofa, with a kiss on her forehead and a promise:

"Mommy will be back soon, my love."

she left without looking back. If she looked, maybe she would cry.

She took another bus that day, now towards the other side of the city, where the nightclub was. On the way, she looked at her reflection in the window: black, straight hair to her shoulders, brown eyes always attentive, but tired.

She was 23 years old and already seemed to have lived twice as much. Still, there was a strength in her gaze... a flame that would not go out.

Arriving at the nightclub, she entered as always through the back door, was greeted by Val, the blonde from the place and costume designer, who handed her a pair of high heels and helped her with the false eyelashes.

"Another night, babe," said Val, applying the bright red lipstick. "You hold that stage like no one else."

Laura gave a half smile.

"Another night, yes. For as long as I can."

The loud music, flashing lights, male gazes, it was all part of the show. She danced with precision, firm body, sensual movements.

It was another Laura there, a red wig, heavy makeup. The real Laura stayed locked in the dressing room, on stage was the "Beast of the Night", that was her code name...

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