Chapter 4

After Rafael retired for the night, Patrícia sat in the armchair beside the bed, holding the book in her hands. With a gentle smile, she looked at the sleeping patient.

“The book is almost halfway through. Shall we continue?” she whispered, as if he could hear her.

She opened it to the page where she had stopped and began to read. The story was becoming intense, and without realizing it, tears started to roll down her face. The couple in the novel had been separated by a great misunderstanding, and the pain in the narrative touched her deeply.

Patrícia paused for a moment, taking a deep breath to compose herself. She raised a hand to her face to wipe away the tears and, at that very moment, something caught her attention.

Her heart almost stopped.

For a brief moment, she saw two of Mr. Avelar’s fingers move quickly.

She held her breath, her wide eyes fixed on his hand. Had it just been her imagination… or had he really moved?

Patrícia froze. Her heart raced in her chest, and her breath caught in her throat. She blinked several times, unsure whether she had truly seen it or if her mind was playing tricks on her.

Mr. Avelar’s fingers had moved. Fast, almost imperceptible, but she was sure of what she saw.

“Mr. Avelar?” she whispered, leaning closer.

She watched his hand carefully, waiting for another sign. Emotion filled her chest, a mix of hope and nervousness. Was he coming out of the coma?

Swallowing hard, she gently held his hand.

“If you can hear me, try moving your fingers again…” she asked softly.

The next few seconds felt like an eternity. The room was completely silent, broken only by the steady sound of the heart monitor.

And then, there they were again. Two fingers moved slightly.

A sob escaped Patrícia’s lips. Her heart raced with emotion.

She needed to tell Rafael.

She stood up in a hurry, but hesitated. What if it was just an involuntary spasm? She didn’t want to alarm anyone without being sure.

She took a deep breath and decided to observe for a few more moments. She gently touched his arm, waiting for another sign.

“Mr. Avelar, if you can hear me, move your fingers one more time.”

This time, nothing happened.

The nurse bit her lip, uncertainty settling in. But her instinct told her this was not a coincidence.

Hope bloomed inside her. Maybe, just maybe… he was finally waking up.

Patrícia hesitated for a moment before running to knock on Rafael’s bedroom door. Her racing heart betrayed her unease. It took no more than two seconds for the door to open, as if he had already been awake and alert.

Rafael appeared before her, wearing pants, barefoot, and shirtless. His broad, well-defined chest revealed the disciplined routine he maintained, but Patrícia quickly averted her gaze, feeling her cheeks burn.

“What happened?” he asked, concern evident in his tone.

She took a deep breath, trying to stay focused on what had brought her there.

“Mr. Avelar… I think I saw your father move,” she revealed, still uncertain.

Rafael’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he took a step closer.

“Move? What do you mean?”

“I was reading to him and… for a second, I saw his fingers move. But I don’t know if it was an involuntary spasm,” she added quickly, not wanting to raise false hopes.

Rafael ran a hand through his hair, his expression serious.

“Are you sure about what you saw?”

Patrícia bit her lip, fighting her insecurity.

“I can’t be absolutely sure… but it was real enough to bring me here.”

He held his breath for a second and, without further hesitation, walked past her, heading decisively toward his father’s room. Patrícia followed closely, feeling the tension in the air.

If what she had seen was truly a sign of improvement… everything could change from that night on.

Rafael walked to his father’s bedside, his heart tight. He gently held the man’s hand and looked at his father’s face with tearful eyes.

“You have always been my example, Dad,” he said, his voice thick, almost a whisper. Emotion filled his chest, but he kept his composure. Rafael softly stroked his father’s forehead.

Before leaving the room, he looked at Patrícia, who watched him in silence. Rafael met her gaze seriously, confidence in his eyes.

“Don’t leave his side,” Rafael said firmly, his voice now more controlled. “He’s going to need you. No matter what happens, stay with him.”

Patrícia nodded, recognizing the intensity of Rafael’s words, and with an understanding look, said,

“Don’t worry, I’ll be here.”

Rafael watched her for another moment and, with a sigh, left the room, leaving Patrícia alone with his father.

Patrícia was sleeping deeply in the armchair beside Mr. Avelar. Her fear of going to her own room and him needing her kept her there, despite the discomfort. Her serene face showed the exhaustion of the first day, and her body was completely relaxed by sleep.

Rafael entered his father’s room and stopped when he saw her asleep. He watched her for a few moments, noticing how small and delicate she looked there, as if she were determined to care for her patient at any cost. He sighed and murmured softly,

“She must be exhausted…”

Carefully, he approached and picked her up in his arms, feeling her body fit against his. He carried her to her room and gently laid her on the bed. He removed her shoes and covered her with the soft comforter, making sure she was comfortable. Before leaving, he left the door connecting the rooms slightly open, in case anything happened.

Back in his father’s room, he sat beside the bed and took his hand, squeezing it lightly.

“I called the medical team, Dad. This afternoon they’ll come examine you to see if you’re really waking up.”

He stayed there for a few minutes, watching his father, waiting for any other movement, any sign that he was truly returning. But the silence and steady breathing continued.

He needed to go to the office. He had a meeting at nine at the café near the company, but first he needed to sign an important document. With one last look at his father, he stood up and left, ready to face another day of work.

When he arrived at the office, Rafael wasted no time. He picked up the pen and signed the document that urgently needed to be resolved. As soon as he finished, he called his secretary to give her some instructions. While they spoke, he stood up and grabbed his jacket, preparing to leave.

The moment he slipped one arm into the jacket sleeve, his phone vibrated on the desk. He looked at the screen and frowned. Private number. He ignored the call and continued getting dressed, but the phone rang again.

With an irritated sigh, he answered.

“Rafael.”

A female voice came through the line, filled with arrogance and impatience.

“Has your father woken up yet?”

He recognized the voice immediately.

“Estela…” his voice came out loaded with frustration. “No. And please, don’t call again.”

She laughed softly, as if his response meant nothing.

“I’ll call whenever I want, Rafael. Augusto is mine and no one else’s. By the way, I’ll be going to the mansion to see him in the next few days.”

Rafael felt his blood boil. Her audacity was infuriating, but he could not allow her to get close.

“Stay away, Estela. My father’s wife won’t like seeing another woman hanging around there.”

Silence stretched on the other end of the line. For a brief moment, Rafael thought she had hung up, but then he heard a hesitant whisper.

“You’re lying…”

He smiled, satisfied with her reaction.

“Then go and see for yourself.”

Before she could say anything else, he ended the call.

Rafael ran a hand over his face, exasperated. He knew Estela was the main suspect in what had happened to his father, and now, without meaning to, he had created a new problem for himself.

“And now? Where am I going to find a wife for him? Damn it!”

He sat down in the chair, staring at the ceiling as his mind worked quickly. He needed a solution—and he needed it fast.