Episode 1

"Don't expect a nice mafioso... at least, not at the beginning."

(Luize)

I wake up early, as usual. I do my morning hygiene and head to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. The routine keeps me steady—perhaps because, since my father died, it's just me and my mother left in this world.

Luize

"Good morning, Mom. Did you sleep well?"

Mother

"Good morning, daughter. I did, thank God."

Luize

My mother is very ill. Cancer has been consuming her day after day, and with each new dawn, the fear of losing her tightens my chest. She's all I have... my safe harbor, my strength, my reason. Still, I carry an unwavering faith that she will overcome this damned disease.

"Mom, I'm leaving now. If you need anything, just call me, okay? I'll come running."

I kiss her head tenderly and head to work with a heavy heart, but determined.

It's been almost a month since I started this job. I'm a waitress in a sophisticated restaurant, frequented by high society—powerful, elegant men and women with cold eyes and full pockets. A world completely distant from mine.

I finished high school with effort, and I always dreamed of going to college for Fashion. But plans changed. My mother's illness became my priority. I had to put my dreams on hold and face reality: work hard to keep the house, pay for her medicine, and take care of the most important woman in my life.

The medications she takes are extremely expensive. Sometimes I wonder how we've made it this far, but I don't complain. I work non-stop, without a second thought. Because taking care of her... is taking care of my greatest treasure.

I arrive at the restaurant a little before my shift. I like to walk there slowly, enjoying the morning silence before the city's chaos fully awakens. The air still has that light freshness, and the streets seem less heavy at this time.

As soon as I enter through the back door, I greet my colleagues with a discreet nod. I don't make friends easily. Not out of dislike, but because I've learned to keep my world to myself.

I go straight to the locker room, put on my uniform, and tie my hair in a firm bun. I glance quickly in the mirror: faint dark circles, clean skin, a tired but resilient gaze. I take a deep breath.

Another day.

In the dining room, I arrange the tables attentively. Perfectly aligned tablecloths, cutlery in place, glasses without a single smudge. I quickly learned the importance of details there. Everything needs to be impeccable. Luxury allows no flaws.

Clara appears beside me, holding a notepad.

"Good morning, Lu" she says with a soft smile.

"Good morning, Clara. Everything alright?"

"Yes... just tired. It feels like the days are longer lately."

"Or maybe we're the ones who are more exhausted" I reply, trying to smile.

I like Clara. She's one of the few who doesn't look down on me, who understands what it's like to fight for something beyond oneself. We talk a little, but that little is sincere.

The hours pass slowly, yet intensely. I serve tables, take orders, clean glasses, excuse myself to people who never respond. Some customers barely look up at me, as if I were part of the furniture. Others are overly arrogant, but I smile all the same. Swallowing my pride has become a habit. And my reason is greater than any disdain.

When noon arrives, the bustle increases. Orders pile up, footsteps quicken, and the heat from the kitchen invades the dining room. The place's elegance is deceptive. Behind every refined detail, there is sweat, rushing, and pressure.

During the brief lunch break, I sit in the furthest corner of the pantry, as always. I open my small lunchbox: rice, beans, a piece of grilled chicken, and salad. Simple, but made with love. I prepared it myself, before leaving home, while my mother was still asleep.

I take out my phone and send a quick message.

Luize:

Mom, did you take your medicine? Have you had lunch? Call me if you need anything, okay? I love you.

I wait for a reply while I chew slowly, but it doesn't come immediately. I put my phone back in my pocket with a slight tightness in my chest. I try not to imagine a thousand things. I try to take a deep breath and trust that everything is fine.

I return to work shortly after, cleaning a glass with extreme care. My mind, however, is far away. It's at home. It's with her.

And so the days pass. One after another, like chapters in a hastily written book. My world is small, but laden with responsibility. Life asked for courage from me too soon… and all I can do is keep going.

Keep going for her.

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