Luisa

I woke to sunlight slipping through the sheer curtains, warm and golden against my face, as if the morning had made a deal with the day to ease me awake. Arthur was still asleep beside me, dark hair tangled on the pillow, breathing slow and steady, one heavy arm draped across my waist. I lay there for a few seconds watching that face I already knew by heart — every line, every detail — feeling that rare kind of peace that only existed when everything seemed exactly where it belonged.

I slid carefully out of bed so I wouldn't wake him, slipped on my house shoes, and headed to the kitchen. The house was quiet, too big for just two people, but at the same time full of us. I made coffee, sliced fruit, put bread in the toaster, and let myself smile alone, thinking about how that simple routine had become my greatest luxury. When I went back to the bedroom, Arthur was already sitting up, rubbing his face with both hands.

"Good morning, gorgeous," he said, his voice still rough with sleep.

"Good morning, Mr. Valente," I replied, setting the tray on the dresser. "Coffee's almost ready."

He got up, came over, and kissed my forehead with care, as if that gesture were some kind of sacred ritual.

"You're up early again. Don't you ever get tired of taking care of me?"

"I like it. Besides, what kind of wife would I be if I didn't look after my husband?" I shrugged. "Someone has to make sure the great CEO doesn't leave the house on an empty stomach."

Arthur laughed — that easy laugh that always undid me. "I'd survive," he teased.

"Survive, maybe. But living well is a different thing."

We had breakfast together at the kitchen table, talking about small things — the weather, a show we'd started the night before, how strong the coffee was. It was in those moments that I felt our marriage wasn't built on grand gestures but on details that were almost invisible.

After breakfast, Arthur put on his jacket while I straightened his tie, smoothing the fabric with care.

"You're going to be late," I warned.

"Worth it if it's because of you," he answered, holding my hand.

I rolled my eyes but smiled. "Romantic. Now go."

He leaned in and kissed me again, longer this time, before rushing out. I stood at the door watching the car disappear, feeling that premature longing that always came, even though I knew he'd be back by the end of the day. I spent the morning handling things around the house — organizing paperwork, answering messages from my mom. In the afternoon, I met my best friend Ana for a quick coffee near home.

"You look good," she said, stirring sugar into her cup.

"I'm happy," I answered without thinking.

"I can tell. Is Arthur still perfect?"

"Imperfect in his own way," I corrected, laughing. "But perfect for me."

I got home before dark and started making dinner. Arthur arrived shortly after, dropping his briefcase on the couch with a tired sigh.

"Long day?" I asked.

"Always. But it gets better when I walk in here."

He came up behind me in the kitchen, resting his chin on my shoulder.

"There's something I need to tell you..." he said, his tone shifting.

My heart gave a small jump, but I kept calm. "What is it?"

"I might need to travel for work next week. A short trip. Two or three days at most."

I turned to face him. "Where to?"

"Out of the country. An important contract. Nothing I can't handle fast."

I took a deep breath, trying to push aside that pang of unease that didn't make sense.

"I'm going to miss you," I said.

"Me too. But I promise I'll call every day."

"CEO promises aren't worth much," I teased.

He laughed. "These ones are. I swear."

We ate dinner talking about the trip, about what he needed to take care of before he left, about silly plans for when he got back. Then we collapsed on the couch, watching something neither of us was really paying attention to, just enjoying each other's company.

"Lu," Arthur said suddenly.

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever thought about how quiet our life is?"

"Sometimes I think it's too quiet to be real," I admitted with a smile.

He pulled me closer. "Then let's enjoy it while it lasts."

That sentence echoed in my head longer than it should have. I pushed the thought away and rested my head on his chest, listening to his heart beating strong and steady. Before bed, we lay side by side talking about the future — trips we wanted to take together, simple dreams.

"I love you," he said, with conviction.

"I love you too," I replied, never imagining that happiness this ordinary could be this fragile.

The next morning, I woke before the alarm again, with the strange feeling that time was moving too fast. I made coffee once more, repeating the same motions, as if the repetition were a way of protecting what we had. Arthur appeared in the kitchen wearing a light shirt, sleeves rolled up, phone in hand.

"You don't have to do everything by yourself," he said.

"I know," I replied. "But I like this part of our life."

He put the phone away and came closer.

"Sometimes I think our routine is what keeps me sane," he confessed. "Work is chaos."

"Then promise you won't let it swallow you," I said.

"I promise to try," he said, and he meant it.

We left the house together — me to run errands downtown, him to the office. On the way, we stopped at a red light, and Arthur held my hand over the gearshift.

"You've told me I look silly when I do this," he said.

"I like your silly side," I replied.

He smiled, and the light turned green. I spent the afternoon organizing old photos into an album — memories from our wedding, trips, important dates. When Arthur got home, he sat down beside me on the living room floor.

"Is this new?" he asked.

"No. I was just forgetting to look at what we already have."

He picked up a photo of us at the beach. "We're happy," he said, as if he needed to confirm it.

"We are," I agreed.

That night, we ordered in instead of cooking. We sat at the table laughing at the mess of takeout containers.

"Think you'll survive without me during the trip?" I asked.

"No," he answered without hesitating. "But I'll pretend I will."

"Dramatic," I said, laughing.

"Realistic," he shot back, laughing too.

After dinner, we went upstairs to the bedroom. Arthur sat on the bed while I took off my earrings.

"When I get back from this trip..." he started, "I want to take a few days off. Just the two of us."

"Another CEO promise?"

"This time it's a husband promise."

I smiled. "Then I'm holding you to it."

We lay down, and before turning off the light, I stared at the ceiling, feeling a deep gratitude for that ordinary life, for that quiet love.

That night, I dreamed of simple things — laughter, lazy Sundays — and woke with Arthur still sleeping, his face relaxed. I lay there in silence, thinking that loving someone also meant choosing to stay, every single day, even when nothing extraordinary was happening. I got up, closed the curtains slowly, and climbed back into bed, fitting my body against his. Arthur shifted and mumbled something unintelligible.

"I'm here," I whispered.

He smiled without waking, as if he'd heard. And in that moment, life felt whole. I thought about how everything had started, how our differences had adjusted over time, creating something stable. There was no rush, no fear — just the comfortable certainty that this was our place. I breathed deep, holding that moment the way you hold a precious secret, never imagining that memory itself could fail.

I closed my eyes and let sleep take me again, believing tomorrow would be just another ordinary day, the same as so many others we'd lived through together. In that silence, everything felt safe. It was just love, simple and whole, breathing between us. And I believed it without question. With a light heart, I fell asleep. Without a trace of fear. In that moment, everything made sense. At least to me.

This is me, Luisa Martins — though I go by my married name, Valente. I've been married to Arthur Valente for two years, and I love him so much I don't know how far I'd go for him. I'm not from a wealthy family — I'm simple and I like the simple things in life — but I'm happy to have found someone like Arthur, even though we come from different worlds.

Luisa

Saturday started with that slow, lazy pace weekends always seem to carry, as if time had decided to drag its feet just to test us. Arthur was still asleep when I got up, and I stood beside the bed for a few seconds watching him breathe, easy and undisturbed. There was something comforting about knowing the day was ours — even with the unavoidable commitment waiting for us.

Veronica's house.

I made coffee and tried to shake off the unease that always crept in whenever I thought about her. Arthur appeared a little while later in a simple t-shirt, his hair still a mess.

"Good morning, my love," he said, kissing my cheek.

"Good morning, babe," I answered, pouring the coffee.

He caught my silence. "You're thinking about the lunch, aren't you?"

"A little," I admitted. "Your stepmother has a special talent for making everything uncomfortable."

Arthur sighed. "Alice is going to be there today too."

I looked up. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. She got back from her trip yesterday. I think it'll lighten things up a bit."

I gave a small smile and said nothing. I only knew Alice in passing — polite, reserved, always very proper. Never rude to me, but never close either. It was hard to know what she actually thought.

We got ready without rushing and headed to Veronica's house around noon. The drive was quiet, but not heavy. Arthur held my hand every so often, as if he needed to reassure me of something that didn't need to be said. The house was exactly as it always was. Imposing, too silent, too immaculate. Veronica met us at the door, dressed as elegantly as if she were going to a social event.

"Arthur, sweetheart," she said, kissing his cheek. "You finally made it."

Then she looked at me. "Luisa," she said flatly, not bothering to greet me properly.

"Good morning, Veronica," I replied, politely.

We went in, and that's when I saw Alice sitting in the living room, leafing through a magazine. She stood as soon as she saw us.

"Hi, Arthur," she said with a measured smile. "Luisa."

"Hello, Alice," I replied.

She seemed different from how I remembered. More serious, maybe. Or maybe I was just paying closer attention.

"You look lovely," she said, glancing at my dress.

"Thank you," I replied.

Veronica watched the whole exchange in silence, as if she were analyzing every gesture. We sat in the living room for a few minutes before lunch. Arthur chatted with Alice about her trip while I responded to Veronica's occasional remarks.

"Arthur told me about your business trip," she said, crossing her legs. "I imagine Luisa is used to being alone by now."

"I adjust to whatever needs to be done," I replied.

"Of course..." she said, with a thin smile. "Some women handle independence more easily than others."

I didn't answer. Arthur shot me a quick glance, but I stayed calm. Lunch was served shortly after. The long table was immaculate, the dishes arranged with care. Veronica sat at the head. Arthur to her right. Alice to her left. I sat beside Arthur.

"I've been hearing you've been very busy lately, Luisa," Veronica remarked as they served the main course.

"I have my commitments," I replied.

"I imagine managing a large house isn't simple," she continued. "Especially when you marry into something that was already well organized."

"I don't manage it alone," I replied, glancing briefly at Arthur. "We do it together."

Arthur smiled. "Luisa's very practical," he said. "She makes everything easier."

Veronica tilted her head slightly. "Practicality is important. But so is tradition."

Alice stayed quiet, eating slowly, her eyes down.

"Arthur was always raised with certain responsibilities in mind," Veronica continued. "We always thought carefully about who would be at his side."

I took a slow breath before I answered. "And he chose," I said, calmly.

The silence that followed was brief but heavy. Alice looked up for a moment, glancing from her aunt to me, then returned to her plate. Throughout the meal, Veronica kept at it with those subtle remarks, always walking the line between courtesy and provocation.

"You didn't come from a very traditional family, did you, Luisa?"

"Not in the sense you mean," I replied. "My family isn't from high society, and we certainly weren't wealthy like yours, but I was raised with strong values."

"Of course..." she said. "Values are relative."

Arthur cleared his throat. "Mom, Luisa —"

"I'm just making conversation," she cut him off. "There's no need to get defensive."

After the main course, Arthur got a call from the company and stepped away to take it. It was just the three of us at the table.

Veronica set down her utensils. "Alice has always been a part of Arthur's life," she said, out of nowhere. "Since they were children."

Alice shifted in her chair. "Auntie..."

"It's true," Veronica continued. "They practically grew up together."

I looked at Alice. "I imagine you have a lot of stories," I said.

Alice smiled, restrained.

"Some," she replied. "But we're more like family."

"Family is important," Veronica said, looking directly at me. "Not everyone understands that the same way."

I held her gaze. "I understand it perfectly," I replied.

Arthur came back a few minutes later, ending his call. "Everything okay?" he asked, sensing the odd atmosphere.

"Of course," Veronica answered before anyone else could. "We were just reminiscing."

The rest of the lunch moved along with more neutral conversation. Alice said little, but always graciously. She was never rude to me, though she seemed uncomfortable whenever Veronica said too much. When we finally got up from the table, I felt an immediate sense of relief. We said our goodbyes in the living room.

"Come back more often," Veronica said. "Family should stay close, after all."

"Of course," Arthur replied.

Alice came over to me before we left. "It was good to see you, Luisa," she said, and she meant it.

"It was," I replied.

On the way home, Arthur was quiet for a few minutes. "She was hard on you, wasn't she?" he asked.

"She was herself. Nothing's changed," I replied.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," I said. "I can handle it."

He squeezed my hand. "You shouldn't have to."

I looked at him and smiled. "But I chose to be here."

When we got home, I took off my shoes and breathed deep, as if only then I could finally relax.

"You were incredible today," Arthur said. "Truly."

"I just don't let anyone make me feel small," I replied.

He pulled me into a hug. That night, lying beside him, I thought about Veronica, about Alice, about that silent game that seemed to be playing out just beneath the surface. There was nothing concrete yet — only feelings, small discomforts I kept trying to push aside. I closed my eyes, convinced it was just another ordinary challenge of married life. I didn't know yet that some people never accept losing control. And that for them, love is just another battlefield.

This is my husband, Arthur Valente — the love of my life. He's a very powerful CEO, wealthy, and incredibly loving toward me. He loves me unconditionally.

And this is Veronica Valente, Arthur's stepmother — though she's like a real mother to him. Even though she's against our marriage and doesn't like me very much, she treats him well, and that's what matters to me.

Luisa

Arthur's travel day arrived faster than I would have liked. I woke before the alarm, with that strange feeling that something was changing, even without knowing exactly what. I lay there for a few minutes watching the still-dark room, listening to his breathing beside me. Arthur was sleeping deeply, as if the world were on pause while he rested.

I got up slowly and went to the kitchen to make coffee. The motions were the same as always, but they felt heavier with care, as if I wanted to hold on to every detail of that morning. When the coffee was ready, I went back to the bedroom.

"Arthur, my love," I called softly.

He stirred and opened his eyes, still drowsy. "Is it time already?" he asked.

"Unfortunately."

He sighed and sat up, running a hand over his face. "I hate traveling," he said, his voice rough with sleep. "Especially when I have to leave like this."

I sat down beside him. "It'll be quick," I said. "And you promised to call."

"I'll definitely call," he assured me, smiling sleepily. "Lots of times," he said, pulling me into his arms.

We had coffee together in silence for a few minutes, as if neither of us wanted to break that moment. Then Arthur went to get ready while I set some things aside for him to take. Ties, shirts, the watch he always wore to important meetings.

"You don't have to do that," he said, watching me fold a shirt.

"I know," I answered. "But I like to."

He came over and hugged me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder. "I'll be back soon," he said.

"I know," I said, turning to face him.

"When I get back, we're going to Switzerland. We'll stay at that hotel you loved, we'll ski in the snow and drink hot chocolate by the fireplace," he said with a smile, kissing my forehead.

The drive to the airport was calm. We talked about ordinary things — the contract, what I'd do while he was gone. By the time we parked, the place was already busy. People coming and going, hurried farewells, quick embraces.

Arthur grabbed his suitcase from the trunk and looked at me for a few seconds before speaking. "Don't stay up late," he said.

"Don't make promises I can't keep," I replied, smiling.

He laughed and cupped my face in both hands.

"I love you. Don't you ever forget that. That's an order," he said, serious.

"I love you too," I answered with a smile.

We kissed right there, unhurried, as if time had slowed to give us that last moment — the kiss long and passionate, proof of the love we had for each other. Then he pulled away and walked toward the airport entrance. I stood there until I lost sight of him.

I drove home feeling the silence press down heavier than usual. The house seemed too big without him. I spent the day trying to keep busy — organizing things, answering messages, watching television without really paying attention. The clock seemed to move slowly.

In the evening, I made something simple for dinner and ate alone at the kitchen table. When I finished, I washed the dishes and settled on the couch, hugging a throw pillow. My phone sat beside me, and I glanced at it every so often, waiting. He called just after nine.

I picked up on the first ring. "Hi, my love," I said, already wearing a silly smile, like a teenager talking to her first boyfriend.

"Hi, love." His voice came through the line, a little tired but still steady. "I just got to the hotel."

"Did the trip go okay?"

"It did. Tiring, but smooth. And you?"

"I missed you all day," I admitted. "The house is empty without you."

He gave a quiet laugh. "Me too. The room is huge and completely dull."

"Of course it is. You're alone," I shot back, laughing softly.

"Exactly."

"The house is colder without you. It feels bigger and totally empty."

He laughed. "Then we need to work on that — we need little ones to fill this empty house," he said, laughing.

I laughed even more. "I'll think about it." I got up and walked around the living room while we talked. "Have you eaten?" I asked.

"Not yet. I think I'll order something to the room."

"Don't skip your meal," I warned.

"Look at her bossing me around from a distance."

"Someone has to."

I heard him smile through the phone. "Tell me about your day," he said.

I told him about the quiet house, the simple dinner, how everything felt a little off without him. Arthur told me about the flight, the meeting scheduled for the next day, the hotel.

"I wish you were here," he said, out of nowhere.

My heart tightened. "Me too."

There was a brief silence — comfortable. "When I get back..." he began, "we're going to take those days off I promised."

"A husband promise?" I asked.

"A husband promise!" he confirmed.

I smiled to myself. "Then I'm holding you to it."

"I hope you do."

We went a few seconds without speaking, just listening to each other breathe.

"Lu..." he called.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for being who you are."

I swallowed hard. "Thank you for choosing me every day," I answered.

"I always will."

After a few more minutes of conversation, he said he needed to rest.

"Call me tomorrow," I said.

"Before you even have your coffee," he promised.

"Good night. I love you."

"Good night, my love. I love you too."

I hung up and stared at my phone for a few seconds before setting it aside. I turned off the lights and went to the bedroom. The bed seemed too big without him. I lay down on my side and hugged his pillow, breathing in the familiar scent. I closed my eyes and tried to push away that strange feeling in my chest. It was just a short trip. Nothing could go wrong. I repeated that to myself until sleep finally came.

That night, I dreamed of airports, long corridors, and distant voices. I woke a few times, but always fell back asleep, holding on to the idea that in a few days everything would be back to normal. Because in that moment, I still believed the love we had was enough to cross any distance. And that some goodbyes were only temporary. Or at least that was what I wanted to believe.