A few hours passed.Inside, Celina remained asleep—but alive. The monitors were no longer screaming like before. Her pulse had stabilized, her blood pressure was under control with intravenous medication. Her body was still weak, vulnerable, but fighting.Thor was allowed back in for a few minutes.When he entered, the nurse guided him to the bed. Celina was there, alive. Each beep of the monitor was a small victory.Thor sat beside the bed and gently took her hand, emotion overflowing within him.“You gave me the greatest gift in the world, my love,” he whispered. “Two little princesses—the most beautiful in the world. I thought I was going to lose you, my life. What would become of me without you?”He leaned down and rested his forehead against hers.“I love you more than anything in this life.”He looked at her again.“I swear to you I’m getting a vasectomy. I never want to see you suffer again. I never want to feel like I’m losing you again.”A few minutes later, he left, with the

The days had passed since that magical and terrifying moment when Celina gave birth to her twin daughters. Now, the maternity room carried a different atmosphere. It was time to leave. Time to walk out and begin life again—a new life, as a mother.Celina sat in the armchair near the window, watching the soft morning light filter into the room. In her arms, she held Antonella, sleeping peacefully. The other baby rested in the crib, already dressed to go home: a lilac dress with delicate bows and a matching blanket. Her sister wore pink, with pearl details and the finest ruffles. They both looked like porcelain dolls.Emma knelt beside her daughter, carefully adjusting Antonella’s tiny shoe.“Mom… you’re so experienced,” Celina said, smiling with a mix of admiration and fear. “I’m so afraid of hurting them… they’re so fragile, my God.”Emma smiled lovingly, lifting her eyes from her granddaughter to meet her daughter’s gaze.“My daughter, I’m the mother of James’s daughter—I changed cou

Zoe and Arthur walked to the parking lot in silence.“Do you have any preference for a place?” Arthur asked, his voice calm, but charged with expectation.Zoe hesitated. Her eyes wandered across the pavilion’s parking lot, as if searching for an invisible escape route. She took a deep breath, then answered neutrally:“As long as it’s private… no.”Arthur nodded slightly. He said nothing more. He simply turned his wheelchair toward the adapted car waiting for him. Zoe followed in silence, not allowing herself to think too much about what she was doing. Between them, everything felt like a minefield—one wrong step could blow it all apart.The car drove through the avenues of São Paulo in a silence that spoke louder than any argument. Zoe kept her gaze fixed on the window, watching buildings pass by, the city rushing outside as if nothing had happened. Inside her, however, everything was chaos.“Where are we going?” she asked after long minutes of silence.“To my new place,” Arthur repli

The night advanced over São Paulo, and the rain that had been falling since the afternoon intensified, turning streets into rivers and uprooting trees. The city seemed to give in to the fury of the storm, while inside Arthur’s penthouse, another kind of tempest unfolded—silent, emotional, intimate.Zoe watched the water stream down the guest room’s glass walls. The wind struck hard, making the windows tremble. She was alone. And full of regret.How could she have said she had no preference about where to go? If she had been firm, she would be in her own apartment now—far from Arthur, far from the whirlwind of emotions he stirred inside her and that she struggled so hard to control.Memories rang like an endless doorbell. She had refused to have dinner with him, and when the housekeeper had come to call her, her answer had been curt. But Arthur, stubborn as always, had asked Cleide to bring dinner to her anyway, along with one of his sweaters and instructions on where to find towels an

Arthur called out for Zoe, his voice still heavy with sleep, searching for her with his eyes.Silence.He grabbed his phone from the nightstand and called Cleide.“Cleide, is Zoe in the kitchen?” he asked, anxiety already tightening his chest.“No, sir. She left early. She was gone before I even started preparing breakfast. She said she needed to go home,” Cleide replied cautiously.Arthur hung up without another word. He called Zoe. Once. Twice. Three times. No answer.On the fourth attempt, a notification appeared—a message from her. Taking a deep breath, he opened it:“Arthur, I’m sorry for leaving without telling you. I need some time. My head is a mess. Please let me breathe for a while.”Arthur read the words again and again. He tossed the phone onto the bed in frustration, his chest tight, his breathing heavy. He knew that night had shaken them both—but he hadn’t expected her to run like that.Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, Zoe paced back and forth in her apartment.