Maria Eduarda — better known as Duda — had always been too big for small spaces.

Even as a child, Duda had an intense, one-of-a-kind way of living. She loved to talk, to smile, to hug people, always transforming any room she walked into into something lighter. Her mother, Helo, used to say she'd inherited her father Eduardo's heart and her own impulsiveness.

Her brother Heitor liked to joke that Duda was a tiny hurricane — she showed up making a mess, but somehow left everything better than she'd found it.

At twenty-three, Duda was exactly the same, give or take the natural maturing that came with age. The chatty little girl had grown into a smart, beautiful, absurdly charismatic woman.

With a degree in advertising, Duda specialized in digital media and had founded her own startup, understanding the field better than most people twice her age. That early expertise had brought her financial independence before most of her peers had figured out what they wanted to do with their lives.

Even with her own money, she still lived with her parents — because she liked it that way and couldn't picture herself living alone anytime soon.

Duda wasn't a fan of silence. She loved conversation, the Sunday family lunches that stretched deep into the afternoon, the silly arguments with her brother, her dad's terrible jokes, the way her parents held hands while watching TV.

She also couldn't stop admiring how Heitor looked at his wife — as though he fell in love with Gabriela all over again, every single day.

And that was what made Duda believe in love.

"Where are my Dinda's gorgeous babies? Where are they?" Duda called out the moment she walked into her brother's house.

It was late on a Saturday afternoon. She stepped through the door with a bag slung over one shoulder and sunglasses perched on top of her head. Whenever Duda had free time, she'd watch the kids so Heitor and his wife could enjoy a night out.

"Dinda! You're here!" Felipe shrieked — almost four years old and absolutely smitten with his aunt and godmother.

He bolted toward her, already talking. Heitor smiled, still trying to figure out whether his son had recently discovered he could talk nonstop, or whether it was Duda who brought out the chatterbox in him.

"Look, babe — Duda's trying to steal our kids." Heitor nudged Gabriela as Felipe sprinted into his sister's arms.

"As if I need to steal these little cuties. They already love me." Duda crouched just in time to catch her godson.

Felipe threw himself into her arms, radiating joy.

"Look how handsome my mini-Heitor is! Wow, you've gotten so big! And where's Nina? I need to smell that delicious baby smell!"

Gabriela walked over laughing, the baby cradled against her chest.

"I missed you, Dinda." Felipe planted a loud kiss on Duda's cheek, and she kissed him right back.

"I missed you too, buddy."

"You're going to be an amazing mom, Duda. Our kids light up every time you come to watch them," Gabriela said.

Duda smiled, gently taking Nina and covering the baby's face with kisses.

"I'm the one who loves watching them, Gabi. You guys know you can always count on me. I love taking care of Felipe and Nina — and I've already started planning Nina's first birthday party. That's going to be my gift."

"Of course you have. You're an old maid with time to spare." Heitor grinned, earning a glare from his sister.

And yes — Duda was single at the moment. She'd dated before, had a few short flings and a couple of more serious relationships, but she'd never truly been in love.

Growing up watching her parents and her brother, Duda had learned early that real love didn't leave room for doubt. You didn't have to ask to be protected or demand to be respected — the right person just did those things because they were right.

That was why Duda could never stay where she wasn't fully loved. She'd never learned to accept half-measures.

When she realized the feeling was one-sided, she walked away. When she had to beg for respect, she ended it. When love started to feel like uncertainty, she chose to leave.

"You know it's your fault I'm single — yours and Dad's."

"Mine?" Heitor kept teasing, breaking into a laugh. "Oh, here we go."

"I'm serious!" Duda shot back. "I grew up watching Dad treat Mom like a queen, and I see you looking at Gabriela like she's a goddess. How am I supposed to settle for a mediocre man after that?"

Gabriela tried to hide her smile. Heitor crossed his arms, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

"What can I say? We set the standard."

"You're so full of yourself! You know I take Muay Thai with your wife, right? Don't push me — you're asking for a beating."

Heitor grinned and sat down beside his sister.

"You know I'd never let you date just anyone. Your future husband has to pass my test and Dad's. And speaking of Dad — your Eduardo is probably grinning ear to ear knowing his little girl is still single. Every father's jealous of his daughter."

"Dad's not like that, you idiot! Besides, your turn's coming — don't forget you're also a girl dad, dear brother."

"Don't start, Duda." Now it was Duda's turn to laugh at her brother's face.

"I can't wait to watch you lose it when Nina brings home her first little boyfriend."

"That's not happening."

Gabriela burst out laughing, and Felipe joined in — he had no idea what they were talking about, but he thought it was hilarious.

Right then, sitting on the couch in her brother's living room, surrounded by some of the people she loved most in the world, Duda felt a quiet, steady wave of happiness.

She had a good life. A family that was her safe harbor. A job she loved. And yet, sometimes, in the silence of the early morning hours, Duda wondered when she'd find someone who looked at her the way Heitor looked at Gabriela — someone who was certain she was the one.

She didn't have a date in mind. But she wasn't in a rush, either.

Duda, 23

Meanwhile, Pedro had learned early that romantic relationships were synonymous with disaster — and it had shaped every relationship in his adult life.

At twenty-eight, Pedro managed one of the largest malls in Sao Paulo with a competence that impressed everyone around him. Employees respected him, investors liked him, and the numbers always closed perfectly under his watch.

He'd always been intelligent, organized, and above all disciplined — the kind of man who turned heads without trying.

Tall, with impeccable posture, his hair and beard always neatly groomed, and a serious gaze that made plenty of people mistake his silence for arrogance.

But Pedro wasn't arrogant. He was just tired of shallow relationships and let down by his family. Everything he'd been through kept him at arm's length from any feeling that might one day stir in him the desire to build a family of his own.

It had all started when his father destroyed their family by cheating on his mother — over and over, throughout the marriage.

After the divorce came the new marriages, the new families, the new conflicts.

His father never changed. Even when married, he kept getting involved with other women, swapping wives like he was trading in cars, until he married a young woman only two years older than Pedro.

That last marriage left Pedro with a memory he could never shake.

He was twenty-two the night he slept at his father's house — the last time they'd ever speak. He'd argued with his mother over his father, as always. He hated being caught in the middle of their fights, but it kept happening.

All he'd wanted that night was a quiet place to sleep. Instead, Pedro woke up startled to find his father's wife naked in his bed, trying to touch him.

Despite the panic and revulsion flooding through him, he didn't hesitate. He pulled away immediately and told her to get out.

But the next morning, his father accused him of harassing her.

The stepmother cried, invented a version where Pedro had tried to seduce her, and his father believed every word — without giving his own son the benefit of the doubt.

Pedro still remembered the crushing weight in his chest. The look of judgment and disgust on his father's face. The fight with his mother, who, when she found out what happened, wanted Pedro to do whatever it took to break up his father's marriage.

He found the whole thing absurd. He left that same day, cutting ties with both of them, feeling that something inside him had died.

After that, he never fully trusted anyone again — least of all women. Relationships became superficial, controlled, purely physical.

That Saturday night, the mall was practically empty when Daniel knocked on Pedro's office door and walked in without waiting for an answer.

"Pedro, don't you think it's time to go home?" Daniel leaned against the doorframe.

Pedro kept his eyes on the computer screen, finishing up the month's revenue report.

"I need to get this done tonight."

Daniel sighed — already used to that answer.

"What you need is a social life, man."

Those words finally made Pedro lift his eyes.

Daniel had worked with him for years and was one of the few friends who genuinely insisted on getting past the wall Pedro had built around himself.

"I'm heading out." Daniel held up his car keys. "My wife's waiting for me. God, I miss my girl."

"Okay. Good night. Tell her I said hi."

"And you're really staying?" Daniel crossed his arms, visibly concerned.

"Just a little longer."

"Dude, you need to snap out of this."

Pedro managed a thin smile, humorless.

"Out of what?"

"This obsession with work. You practically live here. You work too much, you never go out, you don't meet anyone, you don't have any fun."

Pedro turned his attention back to the screen. He knew exactly where his friend was headed.

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not. And I know it."

Daniel watched him for a few seconds before pressing on.

"How about getting out for once? Meeting someone? You know you're a good-looking guy. Women literally throw themselves at you."

"I don't want them to. I'm not looking for romance."

"You should be," Daniel insisted.

"It's not for me. And you know damn well why."

Daniel went quiet for a beat. He knew Pedro's past, understood the damage his family had done, and even understood why his friend refused to let anyone in. But he wanted Pedro to at least try.

"Maybe one day you'll change your mind. You could still meet the right person."

Pedro glanced away from the screen.

"The right person?" The words dripped with irony.

As far as Pedro was concerned, there was no such thing. There were only people who, sooner or later, betrayed and hurt you.

"Daniel — didn't you say you were leaving?"

Pedro turned back to the computer, shutting the conversation down.

"Fine, I'm going." Daniel raised his hands in surrender, but before walking out, he pointed a finger at Pedro. "But I'm going to introduce you to someone interesting."

Pedro's brow furrowed immediately.

"I don't want—"

"But I do, and I will!" Daniel just grinned and slipped out before Pedro could respond.

Silence filled the office again. Pedro stared at the screen for a few seconds, then rubbed a hand over his face, feeling the weight of the day settle into his bones. He didn't need love. He didn't want someone barging into the simple, organized life he'd carefully built over the past few years.

But the problem was that fate never asked what he wanted.

Pedro, 28

Pedro shut down his computer around eleven at night, when the mall was already empty and completely silent except for the low hum of air conditioning still running in a few sections. He rubbed his eyes, tired, grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair, and turned off the office lights before taking the private elevator down to the underground parking garage.

The drive to his apartment was short — fifteen minutes with the light nighttime traffic — but it was enough time for his mind to start working against him.

When Pedro opened the door to the penthouse he'd lived in for three years, silence greeted him like an old friend. The automatic entry lights flickered on, revealing a spacious layout of minimalist furniture in dark tones and an open kitchen done entirely in marble and brushed steel that looked like it belonged in a magazine — and was almost never used for actual cooking. Everything perfect, and just as empty.

No TV playing in the background, no conversation, no smell of food drifting through the apartment. Just the organized emptiness of a space that didn't quite feel lived in.

Pedro tossed his keys onto the kitchen island and loosened his tie. He opened the enormous, mostly empty fridge and grabbed a bottle of water, then walked to the floor-to-ceiling glass wall that offered a sweeping view of the city.

Outside, headlights streamed past. Pedro took a long drink, feeling the cold water slide down his throat.

The loneliness weighed heavier that night. It always did on the days when he was most exhausted — those were the moments a crack opened up, moments when the apartment felt too large for one person.

Those were the nights when Pedro simply wished he could hear someone ask how his day went.

But reality always snapped back fast — the memories, the past — making him prefer the deafening silence over returning to a home where love was nothing but a bargaining chip, a weapon, an illusion.

He could still perfectly remember his father coming home with another woman's scent soaked into his clothes. The screaming matches with his mother. Broken objects. His mother falling apart, crying in the locked bathroom, pretending for her son that everything was fine. He remembered how the two of them turned what was once love into a constant war inside those walls until they finally split.

Maybe that was why he'd learned early never to depend on anyone emotionally. That relationships were unstable. That people disappointed. That feelings could flip in an instant. And in the end, someone always got hurt.

Pedro closed his eyes for a second, and the image came uninvited: the night he woke up to find his father's wife in his bed. The warm body pressed against his. The breathy voice whispering things he'd never been able to forget.

He remembered how he'd reacted. Her performance the next morning. The fake tears. And worst of all — his father staring at him with disgust, choosing to believe his wife over his own son.

Pedro opened his eyes and took another drink of water. He'd built a different life. He had career success, money. He owed nothing to anyone. And above all, he wasn't handing his heart to anyone.

"Better this way," he told his reflection in the glass.

For him, it was better to live alone than to risk another bad experience trying to build a family. His father was on his fourth marriage, cycling through wives like they were cars. His mother, bitter after the betrayal, had shut herself off from the world — and from him. His half-siblings were strangers he barely knew.

Pedro finished his water and headed for the shower. The hot water poured over his tense shoulders, but it didn't wash away the weight in his chest.

Later, lying in bed with only the bedside lamp on, Pedro grabbed his phone out of habit. He scrolled through messages without interest. Daniel had sent a photo of himself and his wife at dinner with the caption: "Love exists, you stubborn man." Pedro didn't respond. He locked the screen and tossed the phone aside.

"Not for me," he whispered, turning over and switching off the light. In the dark, the apartment's stillness felt strange somehow, and even as the uncomfortable void pressed in, Pedro repeated it to himself like a mantra:

"It's better this way."

A few days later, Duda was focused in her home office, answering emails over a glass of iced tea, when her phone started buzzing on the desk.

She glanced away from her laptop, checking the screen — a business number.

"Hello?" She picked up.

"Good morning. May I speak with Maria Eduarda?"

"Good morning. Speaking."

"I'm calling from the marketing office at Shopping Central. Your agency was recommended by two of our clients to handle the Valentine's Day digital campaign. We'd like to schedule a briefing meeting with you and your team."

Duda raised her eyebrows in surprise. Shopping Central was one of the biggest and most important malls in the city — the same one Pedro managed, though she didn't know that yet.

She listened carefully as they explained they were looking for a fresh digital media strategy. They wanted something modern, audience-friendly, more human — to break away from the usual cliches and create a campaign that genuinely connected with couples of all ages.

"Absolutely! I'd love that." Duda couldn't hide her excitement.

By the end of the call, the first meeting was already booked for the following week.

The moment she hung up, Duda sat staring at her phone for a few seconds, a smile spreading across her face and a good feeling settling in her chest.

"This is going to be good. Really good."

Duda didn't frequent malls much — she preferred smaller shops or buying things online. But she knew that to create something truly impactful, she needed to feel the space. Observe the flow of people, the window displays, the lighting, the gathering spots, and how couples behaved there.

For her, inspiration almost always came from experience. So she decided to visit the mall that morning — but she didn't plan on going alone.

She picked up her phone again and called Gabriela, who answered immediately.

"Hey, Duda. Good morning."

"Morning, Gabi! How are my favorite niece and nephew?"

Gabriela laughed.

"They're great. Missing the world's best aunt."

"I miss them too — so much. That's actually why I'm calling. I'm heading to the mall, and I saw on the website they've got this petting zoo thing that's perfect for Felipe's age. I'd love to take the kids with me — can I?"

"Of course! The nanny's here and can go with you. Do you want me to pack anything? I haven't left for work yet."

"Don't worry about a thing. I'm on my way to pick them up."

"All right. And Duda — don't buy them the entire mall."

Duda was already laughing, fishing her car keys out of her bag.

"I make no promises. One extra toy never hurt anyone," she said before heading out the door.