Hello, souls who wander through my world. My name is Bella, and I've come to tell you about the night I unraveled the threads of my own calm.
I come from a family surrounded by gold and rules; my father, Carlisle, is the director of one of the most powerful companies in São Paulo. I am the daughter who chose words instead of business, and because of that, he sees in me an empty future — only because I didn't follow the path he had designed for me. A bitter laugh escapes me, nervous and joyless.
But that wasn't what broke me. It all started that night, when my cousin Jasper and I decided to sneak away for a few hours to a club.
I wore a black sheath dress with a sweetheart neckline that hugged every curve of my body, mid-heel rhinestone sandals, and subtle makeup that hid the fire I carried inside. Jasper was by my side, in a gray shirt that revealed his muscles and dark gray pants that outlined his toned legs. The neon light cut through the air as we entered and went to the bar.
We had already had a few drinks at home, both of us, before arriving. Suddenly, a woman approached and wouldn't stop throwing herself at him. I had no patience left. I set my drink on the table and went up to her. The alcohol was already clouding my senses; I didn't care about consequences. I pulled her hair, slapped her face, and shoved her with all my strength against a table, which shattered on impact.
The bouncer told us to leave. And to make matters worse, my uncle — the club owner — called my father. When he found out about everything, his anger fell over me like a heavy shadow. He grounded me. You might wonder how an adult woman can still be grounded. The answer is simple: I'm still at the beginning of my writing career, and I still depend on his money. That night, my freedom hung in the air, like a candle about to go out.
We got home, and the air was already charged with tension, thick as a moonless night. My father was waiting for us, consumed by a silent fury that soon exploded into shouting. His words cut into my skin like sharp splinters.
I was overcome by a revolt that burned in my chest, but there was no way out: I was still bound to his protection and his money. So, so that the punishment wouldn't weigh only on me, I forced Jasper to follow me into it. Since he had never said where I should serve the sentence, I took the car before the day fully broke and set off toward the country house, hidden in the mountains of Campos do Jordão.
On the way, we let the car stereo blast. We sang, traded jabs, and talked nonstop, trying to push away, for a few hours, the shadow that haunted us.
We stopped on the road for lunch at a small restaurant we had known for a long time. We ate a stroganoff, but no flavor could erase the cold I felt in my chest.
When we arrived at the country house, I saw the shock of our unexpected arrival in the servants' eyes. I asked them to prepare a single room for the two of us.
I noticed his startled look: we had never shared the same sleeping space. But I no longer cared about judgments, or my father's disappointment. I just wanted to be far from his gaze, that gaze that made me feel small every time he saw me.