Laura woke up with the first sign of light filtering through the crack in the curtain. Her eyes burned, her body was heavy as if she hadn't slept, and in fact, she hardly had.
She spent the night restless, attentive to any noise coming from the living room. The presence of a stranger, wounded in her house, turned the small apartment into a minefield.
With cautious movements, she sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing her face with her hands.
She looked at the clock: a little after 6 in the morning.
She needed to pick up her daughter from Dona Zuleide's house before the neighbor got worried. And she needed, above all, to make sure that man had already left.
She still didn't know what had gotten into her head to do that. She risked her miserable life.
She unlocked the bedroom door carefully, her heart racing. She took a deep breath before turning the key. The click echoed louder than she would have liked. She pushed the door slowly, allowing the light from the hallway to invade the room. Her eyes quickly scanned the apartment.
He was still there.
Lying on the same sofa, now in a troubled sleep. His face pale, sweaty. The makeshift sheets were rumpled. She approached cautiously, ready to retreat at the slightest sign of movement.
He had a fever, Laura sighed.
"What the hell!" she muttered to herself.
It was clear that he couldn't just walk away in that condition. His leg, bandaged in an improvised way, was swollen and blood had started to run down the edges again. She noticed the shine on his skin, his irregular breathing.
High fever... infection. This could kill him!
If he died, what would she do with a body inside her house?
With a resigned sigh, she went to the kitchen and put water to boil. She took some clean cloths, opened the first aid kit she kept for emergencies with her daughter. This was all insane.
She didn't know where he came from, what he did, why he didn't want to call the police. She only knew that he was injured, that he looked at her with an intense gaze, and that he gave orders as if he were still in control.
She let the water cool a little and returned to the living room with the basin, a cloth, and an old thermometer, which she carefully placed on his neck. He groaned something inaudible, but didn't wake up. He was burning up... Almost 40 degrees of fever.
While she passed the cloth with warm water over his face, Laura noticed something under the makeshift pillow. A volume strangely familiar to the touch. She pulled it out carefully and her heart leaped when she saw what it was: a pistol!
Cold, heavy. It was loaded.
Rage took over her for a second.
"Damn!" she said softly.
It could have been worse. If this guy was a murderer, a fugitive... But at the same time, why was he still there, so vulnerable?
Without thinking much, she walked quickly to the laundry closet and hid the gun inside a panettone box that she used to store screws, nails, and all kinds of gadgets. She closed it well, it was better if he didn't know that she knew about the gun.
When she returned to the living room, the man was moving, sweating.
"Water..." he murmured, with a hoarse voice and his eyes still half open.
Laura gave him a small glass, helping him drink carefully. His skin was burning.
"You need a doctor," she said.
He just babbled something in another language and passed out again.
Before she could reflect further on the situation, she heard light knocks on the door, three rhythmic taps. Her heart almost jumped out of her mouth. It was Zuleide.
Laura ran to the door and opened it with a tense smile.
"Good morning, my dear. I brought the little one. She already had breakfast and she's so excited, you have to see..." Dona Zuleide smiled, the girl next to her, holding her hand.
Laura bent down and hugged her daughter tightly. A relief took over her. For the first time that morning, she felt safe. But a fragile safety, made of silence and improvisation.
"Thank you, Dona Zuleide. Just don't mind the mess, I had a terrible night."
The old woman looked over the girl's shoulder and seemed to sense that something was wrong.
"Do you need help with anything? You're pale..."
Laura gave a smile.
"No, I'm fine. Just tired. I'll explain later. Thank you for bringing Maria Eduarda." She kissed her daughter on the cheeks, that child was her "north."
"Go play a little on Mommy's bed, my love."
Maria Eduarda leaves hopping, without even noticing the sick man on the sofa. Zuleide hesitates for a moment, but nodded, her eyes searching for something inside the apartment.
Laura thanked her again and closed the door gently. She leaned against the door for a few seconds, thinking about what to do...
Now with her daughter at home and an armed and feverish man on the sofa, Laura knew that she was living the beginning of something she couldn't control. From then on, every decision counted and every secret too.
She looked at the man, who was sleeping badly, sweating with fever. Her heart is tight, but it's too late to turn back.
She knows she messed up, risked her life and her daughter's by bringing a stranger into her house.
After her foolishness of trusting the "sperm donor," as she referred to her daughter's father, this was her first unthinking decision in three years.
She didn't know what to do... Maybe calling the police would be best, but something about him made her want to protect him. Not that he looked like someone who needed protection, but at the moment he was fragile and it was like the abandoned puppy that she once took home and, when she asked for help from her father, she got a beating and the little animal was thrown into a sewer near her grandmother's house, where she lived with her father.
There she was with another abandoned animal, but now there was no one to throw it away.
She approached the sofa slowly and observed the features of the man who was there.
The hair and beard well cut, the body well cared for, was a sign that he was not a homeless person. He was handsome, well-groomed.
When touching his forehead to see if the fever had passed, her wrist was twisted and her body collapsed on the strong body.
"Donde estoy? Quien eres tu?"
His voice was hoarse, deep, and when, for a brief moment he opened his eyes, Laura could see the most beautiful green eyes of her life...
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