Episode 1

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.

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