Heat and makeup do not mix, especially when a medium-coverage foundation begins to melt over the high white lace collar of a French lace dress. Summer had arrived early, and no one was prepared for it. The actress's nervousness ahead of a wedding scene certainly didn’t help either.

— Everyone ready? You’ll be on set in minutes! — a sharp voice cut through the trailer door, making everyone even more anxious.

— Makeup will be ready in five... — the makeup artist tried to smooth things over, his palettes spread across the illuminated vanity.

— Hair is good! — confirmed the hairstylist, pinning the last strand into a braided updo woven with flowers.

The cool air blowing through the small gap of the AC unit wasn't enough to chill the cramped space. Panting, the actress fanned herself with her hands.

— Excuse me, whoever is done, please step out! — a velvety yet firm voice cut through the claustrophobic atmosphere, making room for the actress to breathe. — Let me look at you, darling!

Rachel stepped closer to Lana, a popular actress used to playing tough characters in action movies, but who was now starring in her first romance.

— Hmm... — Rachel examined the hem of the lace dress, the satin ribbons at the waist, the pearl buttons on the fastening, the heart-shaped embroidery on the sleeves, the sheer fabric of the bodice, all while checking her clipboard to see if everything was as requested in the script. — This isn't right... Something isn't right. — Rachel stepped back to get a wider view. — I knew it. The bride was supposed to have long, light blue nails. Why is she wearing short French tips? Where is the manicurist? — she asked, rummaging through the accessory folder in search of the blue press-on nails until she found them.

— I'm here! — the manicurist hurried in, sliding right next to the actress's hands in a single motion and immediately beginning the application of the fake nails, which were put on in no time.

— I'm done here. — the makeup artist rushed, giving the final touches with setting spray.

In exactly nine minutes, Lana was in position, ready for the long-awaited scene.

The scene consisted precisely of a bride walking alone down a long stone pathway toward the altar, where no one was waiting, no one was watching, and no one was accompanying her. It was just the bride and the long stone walkway.

At the edge of the set, away from the cameras and boom mics, Rachel walked silently, evaluating the drape and fluidity of the dress as the actress moved. Until...

— What is the meaning of this? — A shout came from the director’s chair, as he stood up immediately and strode to the center of the set where the actress stood. — Who did your makeup? — Thomas asked rigidly, leaving Lana speechless.

Everyone on set fell silent, startled by Thomas’s outburst, as he realized he had gone too far and pulled back for a brief moment.

— It wasn't the makeup artist's fault... — Rachel stepped up to take charge of the situation. — It's hotter than usual today, it's normal for the makeup to smudge a little.

Thomas walked right up to Rachel.

— What do you think you're doing? Going to act as a shield for other people's incompetence now? — he spoke in a low, yet unyielding voice.

— No, I'm not, but if you give me a minute, I'll fix it.

Thomas chuckled with disdain as he glanced around, noticing that everyone was watching.

— You have five minutes — he said quietly, walking away without meeting her eyes. — Someone get me some ice water, this place feels like hell today.

Quickly, the commotion on the set began. Rachel ran back to the trailer, where she rummaged through the costume rack until she found a strip of French lace similar to the dress fabric. Back on the set, she hurried to the actress, who was standing beneath a fan trying to cool off. Rachel wrapped the stained collar of the dress with the piece of lace trim, completely covering the stain and finishing it with a discreet bow at the nape of the neck.

The five minutes given by the director passed, and the problem was resolved, allowing filming to continue.

The pressure of the film set, combined with excessive heat, tested the skill and composure of everyone involved in the production. However, Rachel's speed and calm demeanor, paired with her experience, ensured that the issue was fixed efficiently and discreetly. The scene, which could have been compromised by a simple mistake, proceeded without further hiccups.

After filming wrapped, the crew gathered excitedly for a celebratory dinner, marking the successful shoot and taking the opportunity to unwind after an exhausting day. The atmosphere was filled with laughter and chatter, everyone marveling at how a simple scene could turn into such an exhausting ordeal.

Rachel, however, kept to herself, declining the invitation yet again, as she had on previous occasions. Her eyes didn't share in the others' excitement, and her silence seemed out of place amid the festive mood.

Upon arriving home, Rachel noticed her stepson wasn't alone. The pair of men's shoes by the door told her there was a visitor. Deciding to ignore the situation, she headed straight up to her room, planning to spend the next few hours unwinding in solitude. However, the sound of lively conversation drifting up from downstairs interrupted her.

"Could Thomas be home already? And did he bring the crew back with him? No, he's not that sociable... But then, who could it be?" Rachel thought, confused.

Curious, she stepped cautiously out of her room, almost as if she were committing a crime. Leaning softly over the mezzanine railing, she spotted three male figures gathered in the living room.

Thiago, her stepson, with his hair messy as always. Next to him, Thomas, her husband and Thiago's father, with wrinkled clothes and looking exhausted. And finally, a tall young man with dark, equally unkempt hair, whose features were entirely unknown to Rachel.

The three of them were talking and laughing loudly while she watched, trying to make sense of the unexpected gathering. But in a subtle movement, the unknown young man turned his head, and his eyes locked onto Rachel's as she peered down from the mezzanine. Startled, she scurried back to her room. The gesture was so discreet that, apparently, no one else had noticed the brief eye contact—just her and the young man.

The small clock on the nightstand read 4:30, and Rachel still couldn't fall asleep. She refused to rely on medication, so sleeping pills were out of the question. Thomas, on the other hand, had taken two pills and was fast asleep beside her, motionless like a stone.

Fifteen years of marriage had left her ears calloused to her husband's incessant snoring, but not even the sharpest sounds could quiet her mind that night. Everything indicated that the guest had stayed over, since Thomas didn't take long to come upstairs after she locked herself in the room, and Thiago soon turned in as well. However, no noise had been heard at the front door and no farewell fuss had been made, so Rachel deduced that the visitor was still in the house. Yet she hadn't left her room since she was caught off guard by the stranger while spying from the mezzanine. A sudden wave of shame had washed over her, something she wasn't used to feeling.

"It must be one of Thiago's friends. After all, he has so many friends I can barely remember their faces… Yes, it must just be a passing friend," Rachel thought, trying to push the thoughts away and convince herself she would manage to get a peaceful night's sleep.

But the attempt was a failure. The alarm clock went off at 6:00, waking only those who had actually managed to sleep. Rachel was already in the bathroom, getting ready to leave for work since she had a team meeting scheduled for 7:30.

— Why do I have the feeling this damn clock is ringing earlier and earlier? — grumbled Thomas, dragging himself from the bedroom into the bathroom with messy hair, a creased face, and his pajamas all twisted. Meanwhile, Rachel silently chose her husband's work clothes.

— Seriously! Before long, time will fly by so fast we won't even notice when it's time to sleep — he muttered, already stepping into the shower.

With every dawn, Thomas seemed to be invaded by unexpected reflections. Some days, he would get lost in the mysteries of the universe and its immensity; on others, he was gripped by an inexplicable anger, as if something or someone were provoking him. And on more random days, ideas for a completely out-of-the-ordinary breakfast would pop into his head. His mind always woke up restless, and his words poured out unfiltered.

At 6:30, Rachel walked down the stairs toward the kitchen, where Sarah, the person responsible for keeping the house in order, was already waiting for her with the table set for breakfast.

Next to the kitchen was the dining room with fine, elegant furniture and a giant dining table, but Rachel had always found all of that an exaggeration and preferred their meals to be served at the small kitchen table.

— Toast or pancakes, ma'am? — Sarah asked, pouring a cup of coffee with milk.

— Toast, please! — Rachel replied with a gentle smile. — And for Thomas, black coffee and pancakes, please.

— Right away, ma'am!

— I want the same thing, Sarah! — exclaimed Thiago, entering the kitchen in two long strides. — Good morning, auntie! — he said, hugging Rachel from behind the chair where she sat.

— What is this? What's all this excitement so early in the morning? — Rachel asked, surprised.

— Didn't you know? — Thiago looked at her, confused. — My childhood friend, the one who moved abroad, came back yesterday. He's going to stay here a few days until his apartment is ready. — He settled at the table, still excited. — Didn't you see him here yesterday?

— No, I didn't. — Rachel answered quickly, without even realizing she was lying.

— Oh, how long have you been standing there? — Thiago said, turning to someone standing right behind Rachel. — Come have breakfast with us! — he gestured with his hand, calling him over.

— Good morning! — a deep voice resonated beside Rachel.

— Good morning! Make yourself at home, sit down and help yourself! — Rachel replied softly, trying to look distracted as she nudged her toast with a knife, avoiding looking directly at the young man.

She was sure it was the same guy from the previous night, and for some reason she feared making some sort of mistake she didn't understand if their eyes were to meet. So the wisest choice for the moment was to pretend to be preoccupied.

— This is the friend I was telling you about, his name is... — Thiago began, but was interrupted.

— Lohan, you're already awake? — Thomas walked into the kitchen, cutting Thiago off. — How can you be so energetic at this time of the morning?

Lohan smiled timidly, observing everyone at the table, playing with his fingertips while noticing that Rachel had already finished her entire cup of coffee without touching her toast. Still standing, he acknowledged them with a slight nod of his head:

— I appreciate it, but I don't want to intrude. — he said, glancing out of the corner of his eye at Rachel, who in turn noticed.

"What is this kid doing?" she thought, confused, trying to read Lohan's intentions and taking action.

— Nonsense! You've been a friend of Thiago's since childhood, haven't you? — Rachel pulled out the chair next to hers and finally looked him straight in the eyes. — Come, sit down and have coffee with us.

Lohan stopped playing with his fingers, brought his arms more naturally to his sides, and broke into a sun-bright smile without saying a word, pulling up a chair right next to Rachel as if he already belonged in that daily routine.

Thomas settled at the head of the table, as usual, and before he could finish his coffee, Rachel was already on her feet, ready to leave.

— I'll go ahead, I have a team meeting. You don't need to come with me, Thomas, you can head straight to the set. We'll meet there. — she said, full of energy.

She then turned to Lohan, smiling casually and extending her hand in a cordial gesture.

— And as for you, young man… — she said with sympathy. — It was a pleasure meeting you. I hope your stay is comfortable, and since you're Thiago's childhood friend, you can call me auntie.

"Let's put this boy in his place," she thought, maintaining her gentle smile, but with a hint of amusement in her eyes.

Lohan smiled, first with his eyes, then letting the smile widen until all his teeth showed, before standing up and, with an elegant gesture, positioning himself before her.

— The pleasure was all mine... — he said, gently holding Rachel's extended hand. — ...auntie! — he finished, whispering at the same time he bowed and kissed her hand, with a touch of daring in the gesture.

Rachel was surprised for a moment, but Thomas soon laughed, breaking the tense atmosphere.

— Take it easy, kid. I know you grew up in another country, but be careful so people don't misunderstand your manners, huh? — Thomas said, laughing at Rachel's astonished expression. — Go to your meeting, darling, and don't scold the boy. I'm sure he was just trying to be polite, right, Lohan?

— Of course, Sir, it was just a courtesy. — Lohan replied, but his smile vanished instantly. Now, he was looking at her with a disturbing seriousness that seemed to hold Rachel in a hypnotic grip.

"This is what I was trying to avoid. This kid has that look. The exact same look from last night. A look that makes my stomach churn," Rachel thought, forcing herself to break away from Lohan's gaze.

Unable to force a smile, she simply turned around, grabbed her bag from the sideboard in the hallway, and slammed the front door behind her.

Back in the kitchen, only Thomas remained, finishing his coffee in silence while catching up on the day’s online news on his tablet; Lohan stood frozen, his gaze lost, staring fixedly at the empty space where Rachel had been; and Thiago had just stepped directly in front of Lohan, his expression completely altered compared to the moment when Rachel was still present.

— Hey, Lohan... — Thiago blurted out, his voice charged with an intensity that hadn't been there moments before. — What was that?

Lohan, acting as if he were oblivious to what had happened, looked away and sat down again, in no rush to finish his coffee.

— What was what? — he asked indifferently, trying to mask the weight of the situation.

Thiago didn't hesitate. He stepped closer, and his words cut through the air.

— Don't do that again! — he said firmly, his tone grave, almost desperate, sounding like an ultimatum.

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and headed for the door, completely unaware of his father’s watchful gaze fixed on him now, the tablet left discarded on the table and an air of curiosity written across his face. Already on the threshold of the exit, Thiago muttered without looking back:

— I'm heading to work.

The production company's office is a vibrant, dynamic environment with desks covered in sketches, fabric swatches, and historical references scattered everywhere. The soft light of modern designer lamps illuminates the space, while large windows offer a panoramic view of the city, still quiet before the frantic rush of the day. In the center of this creative scene is Rachel, an experienced professional passionate about what she does. She listens intently to her team's ideas regarding the costumes for the production company's newest project: a historical action epic recounting the origins of a reborn hero.

The film demands precision, as the costumes will be crucial in conveying the authenticity and grandeur of the portrayed era. Rachel knows that for this kind of film, the costumes tell the story all on their own. Every detail, from a simple brooch to an imposing cape, must be meticulously thought out, ensuring the work is flawless and faithful to the historical narrative.

The meeting proceeds lively, with the team presenting enthusiastic suggestions. Rachel, with the sharp eye of someone who understands the challenges of a project like this, takes notes while absorbing every proposal. Her personal assistant, Laura, seated right beside her, watches closely, ready to step in when necessary. Laura, with her calm and organized demeanor, is Rachel’s right hand. She has a unique knack for managing the chaos surrounding these large projects, keeping everything on track.

— Rachel, the material on the hero's costume is ready. We can begin the review as soon as the meeting wraps up — Laura says with a confident smile, handing over a notebook full of detailed notes.

Rachel looks at her, grateful, and nods.

— Great, Laura, thank you. Let's take a look as soon as we finish up. And please have the samples set aside for the cast meeting — Rachel replies, with the same dedicated attention she gives to her team.

Meanwhile, the team discusses the final suggestions. The members are excited, and Rachel feels the positive energy in the air. She leans forward, signaling the end of the meeting.

— Everyone, you did an incredible job gathering all this material! — Rachel says, a satisfied smile on her face. — Now, our next meeting will be to present the costumes to the main cast. Get ready to rock it!

The room fills with murmurs of approval and excitement. Everyone knows they are about to create something grand.

At the end of the meeting, the team members are divided into two groups of three: the first group, led by Laura—who is ready to ensure no detail is overlooked—is tasked with preparing the presentation for the historical film's cast, and the other group, led by Rachel, heads to the film set to wrap up the final chapter of the series they are currently working on.

— Make sure everything is ready by the end of the week, Laura. I want the selected cast to be pleased with the chosen costumes; it's very important that everyone feels comfortable in their attire — Rachel orders, with the confidence of someone who knows she is in good hands.

Laura smiles and nods affirmatively, already organizing everything for a smooth transition.

— Leave it to me, Rachel. I'll take care of it — she replies, with the tranquility of someone who has already anticipated every need.

The meeting ended shortly before lunch, and as soon as Rachel picked up her phone, a message from Thomas popped up on the screen.

"Are you done yet? Let's have lunch together!"

It was typical of him, always with some hidden motive behind it. In their fifteen years of marriage, the times they had lunch together purely for pleasure were rare. Almost always, the encounter had a hidden agenda—business or some obligation related to Thomas's family. Rachel took a deep breath, reflected for a second, and replied:

"State your business ahead of time. I was planning to have lunch with my team."

Actually, what she was planning was to eat alone, after dismissing everyone for the break with the agreement to meet up later on the set. But there was no need to tell Thomas that.

"Cancel your lunch and come meet me at the usual restaurant!"

He was as uncompromising as ever, making no concessions, leaving no room for negotiation. Thomas wanted things his way, and Rachel hated that. But for the sake of peace and to avoid complicating her career, she avoided getting into arguments.

"Ok."

Distractedly tidying up the small mess on her desk, Rachel lost herself in her own thoughts, trying to guess what Thomas wanted this time. "Money? That would be the last thing he'd ask me for. Help with work? No, he's too proud for that. But... wait a minute..." She paused, setting aside a stack of magazine clippings and grabbing the bag hanging from the coat rack in the corner of the room. "The last time we had lunch together, he asked me to convince Lana to star in his series. And there was that other lunch where he brought three actors for me to choose who would look best as a surgeon, because he couldn't decide which of them should be the leading man for his hospital series. So, who knows, maybe he needs my help again?"

Already inside the elevator, Rachel smiled with satisfaction, imagining that despite constantly underestimating her, Thomas might be on the verge of asking for her help once more.