Episode 3

I woke up even before the sun rose. I barely slept, my heart felt like a drum, pounding hard in my chest. I got up, took a long shower, and spent minutes in front of the mirror, trying to convince myself that I was ready.

I chose a simple but elegant outfit: black dress pants, a light blue blouse, and a blazer I inherited from my aunt. It wasn't new, but it made me feel more confident.

As I put on some makeup, my mother appeared in the bedroom doorway.

"You look beautiful, daughter. Everything will be alright."

I smiled, but my hands were trembling.

"I hope so, Mom. I need this job more than anything."

On the bus to the hospital, each stop seemed eternal. I looked out the window, watching the city rush by, while I imagined what the interview would be like. Would they ask about my internships? About my grades in college? Or would they give me practical tests?

When I finally arrived at the hospital, I was breathless. The immense, modern building, with revolving glass doors and people rushing in and out. I felt small in the face of it all, but I took a deep breath and moved forward.

At the reception desk, I announced my name. A few minutes later, a smiling woman called me:

"Miss Geovana Lins? Please come with me."

My heart raced again. I walked through white, silent corridors to a meeting room. Inside, three people were waiting for me: a doctor, a man in a suit, and a woman who seemed to be the same one from the phone call, Julia.

"Good morning, Geovana. Welcome." said the doctor, adjusting her glasses. "We want to know a little more about you."

I sat down, trying to hide my anxiety. I answered questions about my education, my internships, my technical skills. Gradually, I regained my confidence.

Then, the man in the suit spoke:

"Geovana, we value practice here. Would you feel comfortable taking a quick test in our radiology room?"

I swallowed hard, but nodded.

"Yes, of course."

I was led to a large room with equipment I had only seen in photos and in practical classes in college. A chill ran down my spine. They watched me silently as I adjusted the equipment and followed the protocols I had learned. My hands were sweating, but my mind seemed sharp.

When I finished, I heard one of the evaluators whisper to the other. I didn't understand, but the doctor's look of approval gave me hope.

Back in the room, Julia smiled:

"Geovana, you did very well. We have other candidates, but I can tell you that your performance was above expectations."

I left the hospital with a light heart. They hadn't given me the definitive answer, but for the first time I felt that my future was opening up before me.

I looked up at the sky and thought:

"If I get this job, it will be the beginning of my freedom. The chance to prove to myself – and even to my father – that I don't need him to succeed."

Two days after the interview, I was in my room, sitting on the edge of the bed with my cell phone in my hand, as if I could guess when it would ring. My mother, in the hallway, was ironing clothes over and over, trying to hide her own anxiety.

Suddenly, the cell phone rang through the room. My heart almost stopped. I answered with a halting voice:

"Hello?"

"Geovana? This is Julia, from Vida Plena Hospital. I'm calling to give you the good news: you have been selected to join our radiology team. Welcome."

For a moment, I couldn't answer. I felt a lump in my throat, tears burning my eyes. I pressed the phone against my ear and let out a broken sigh:

"Thank you so much... really. You won't regret it."

"I'm sure we won't," replied Julia, friendly. "Come in early tomorrow to sign the contract."

When I hung up, I burst into tears. My mother ran to me, dropping the clothes on the floor.

"Daughter? What's wrong?"

Through tears, I smiled.

"Mom, I did it! I got hired!"

She hugged me tightly, crying along. For the first time in a long time, I saw a glimmer of hope in her eyes. It was as if life was finally giving us back a breath of dignity.

It was at that moment that my father entered the room, attracted by the noise. He stared at us with that usual coldness and asked, without emotion:

"What's going on here?"

Mom replied, proudly:

"Our daughter got a job at the hospital!"

He raised an eyebrow, flashing a crooked smile.

"Good... that way she'll finally stop costing us money. Now she can contribute to the household expenses."

I felt my stomach turn. He didn't say "congratulations," he didn't say "I trust you," he just reduced my achievement to money.

I looked at my mother, who lowered her eyes, ashamed. It was always like that. When she asked for money to buy new clothes, take care of her hair, or even replace our worn-out shoes, he gave her crumbs that were good for nothing. Meanwhile, he paraded around in expensive suits and imported perfumes.

I swallowed the tears and raised my head.

"I didn't get this job to please you, Dad. I got it because I deserved it. And you can be sure: what I'm going to achieve from now on won't be to support your arrogance, I'm going to try to meet some of my and Mom's needs that you've always failed to."

Silence settled in the room. Mom squeezed my hand, nervous, as if asking me to be quiet. But, deep down, I knew that this was the first of many answers he would still hear from me.

"Ungrateful daughter, is this what we raise children for, now that it's time to repay what we do for them, this is what we receive."

After all, that job wasn't just a job. It was the key to my freedom.

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