Episode 2

Rio de Janeiro continued noisy, sunny, and indifferent.

Sofia dragged the small suitcase along the sidewalk, dodging people without really seeing them. The sound of cars, loud conversations, laughter scattered through the bars seemed distant, as if everything was separated from her by an invisible layer.

She wasn't lost.

She knew exactly where she was, knew how to get back home, knew where to go. Still, there was a strange feeling in her chest, as if the ground had given way under her feet, leaving her suspended in the air, without support.

After a few minutes walking aimlessly, Sofia stopped. She took a deep breath. It didn't make sense to continue like this.

She picked up her cell phone, looked at the short list of contacts and, after a brief hesitation, chose a name.

Marta.

When the apartment door opened, Sofia barely had time to say anything. It was enough to see her friend's face for everything to collapse.

She took a step forward and hugged Marta tightly.

The crying came all at once, without warning, without control. It wasn't a loud cry, but deep, convulsive, as if it had been repressed for too long. Sofia's shoulders trembled, and her whole body seemed unable to support its own weight.

Marta closed the door quickly and wrapped her arms around her in silence.

"It's okay…" she murmured, stroking her hair. "You can stay here."

That simple phrase was enough for Sofia to cry even more.

She didn't know how long she stayed like that. When she finally managed to pull away, her eyes were swollen, her throat burning. Marta led her to the table and placed a bowl of hot soup in front of her.

"Eat something," she said softly.

Sofia obeyed. She ate quickly, almost without chewing, as if her body had been starving for days. Only after finishing was she able to breathe more calmly.

Silence stretched between the two.

It was Sofia who spoke first.

"I'm getting divorced."

She said it simply, directly, as if she were reporting an inevitable fact.

Marta raised her eyes.

"What?"

"Bruno filed for divorce." Sofia kept her voice steady. "Sent the agreement to the hospital. Through his assistant."

For a second, Marta seemed not to understand. Then her face changed completely.

"He did that while you were hospitalized?!"

Sofia nodded.

Marta let out a short, incredulous laugh.

"That man has no heart."

"Maybe he never had," Sofia replied, without irony.

Marta took a deep breath and tried to calm down before asking:

"And what about the division of assets? The house, the money…"

"None of that is mine," said Sofia. "I'm not going to keep anything."

The reaction was immediate.

"Are you crazy?" Marta slammed her hand on the table. "Sofia, this isn't pride, it's stupidity! You have rights!"

"I know." Sofia raised her eyes and looked at her friend. "But I don't want them."

"Why?"

Sofia took a few seconds to answer.

"Because I'm tired. Tired of negotiating feelings, of begging for attention, of owing explanations. If I leave with nothing, he won't have any reason to look for me anymore."

The coldness of that logic left Marta in silence.

"I just want to end this," Sofia continued. "Once and for all."

Marta watched her face carefully. There was no hysteria, no drama. Just tiredness. A deep, definitive tiredness.

"You can stay here with me," she said finally. "For as long as you need."

Sofia nodded, grateful.

Silence returned, but now there was something different in the air. Marta frowned, as if she had realized something too late.

"You've been strange since you arrived," she commented. "Very pale. Have you been eating properly?"

Sofia looked away.

"Not much."

"And the hospital? Was it just fainting?"

Sofia's fingers lightly tightened the edge of the table. She took a deep breath, as if preparing to cross an invisible line.

"Marta…" she began, and stopped.

The friend's name came out too low.

Marta felt the weight in the air.

"What is it?"

Sofia opened her bag with slow movements. She took out a folded envelope, already a little crumpled, and placed it on the table.

"I hadn't told you yet because… I was still trying to accept it myself."

Marta opened the envelope. One quick look was enough to understand what it was.

Medical exam.

Positive result.

She raised her head slowly.

"Sofia…" her voice came out tense. "What is this?"

Sofia swallowed hard.

"I'm pregnant."

The silence that followed was absolute.

"How… how long?" Marta asked, with difficulty.

"Two months."

Marta brought her hand to her mouth.

"Two months…" she repeated, as if the number needed to be digested. "And does Bruno know?"

Sofia shook her head.

"No."

"Are you going to tell him?"

"No."

The answer came too quickly.

Marta's eyes widened.

"Are you serious?"

"Very."

Marta stood up from the chair, clearly agitated.

"Sofia, this isn't just about you! It's a child!"

"I know." Sofia's voice faltered for the first time. "Precisely because of that."

She closed her eyes for a moment before continuing.

"That night… he was drunk. He barely remembered what he had done the next day. It meant nothing to him. I'm not going to use a child to tie down a man who never wanted me."

Marta was silent.

"I haven't decided yet if I'm going to carry the pregnancy to term," she confessed, in a low voice. "But, if I do, it will be my responsibility. Only mine."

"This is going to be very difficult," said Marta.

"I know."

"You could end up alone."

Sofia raised her eyes, firm.

"I was already alone inside that marriage."

Marta couldn't answer immediately. She approached and held Sofia's hands tightly.

"Then don't think about doing anything rash," she said. "You don't have to decide everything now. But one thing I'll tell you: you're not alone here."

Sofia's eyes filled with tears again, but this time she didn't cry.

"Thank you," she said simply.

That night, as she lay down in the guest room, Sofia placed her hand over her own belly, still flat, still silent.

Everything was falling apart.

And, at the same time, something new was beginning to exist inside her.

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