Three years had passed since Camila’s wedding, and she returned to her childhood home. In the meantime, Afonso had also married, and life had become a routine, with each day a quiet, repetitive march. Yet, deep within him lay a hidden yearning, a feeling he couldn’t quite name. This desire lay dormant, like mercury in a thermometer, steady and contained. But with Camila’s return, a warmth reignited within him, causing that long-contained feeling to surge to overwhelming heights.
Camila arrived with a two-year-old child—a lively, charming boy whom Afonso soon became inseparable from. Day and night, he seemed almost glued to the child. Every morning and evening, Afonso would carry him around the town, taking him for walks.
He would bring toys and treats from the marketplace, ensuring the child had sweets and snacks with each sunrise. He bathed and dressed him, combed his little curls, and even tended to any small cuts or bruises, applying soothing balm. He took all these tasks upon himself.
The boy, too, grew so attached to Afonso that he would hardly leave his side, even falling asleep beside him at times. When Camila called him, the boy would often refuse to go to her.
Afonso would ask, “Who’s your dad?”
The child would answer, “You are, Uncle Afonso!”
Overcome with joy, Afonso would sweep the boy up in a hug.
Camila’s beauty had only deepened over the years. She had blossomed like a flower in full bloom. But now, a hint of pride and a love for finery had entered her nature.
Dressed in gold jewelry and silk dresses, she looked even more enchanting, yet she seemed to distance herself from Afonso, as though intentionally.
She spoke to him only when necessary and, even then, in a tone that suggested she was doing him a favor. Although Afonso devoted himself entirely to her child, fulfilling his every wish with delight, it appeared that Camila placed little value on his efforts. It was as if she expected his devotion, as if it were his duty, requiring no gratitude or acknowledgment.
When the child cried, she would scold him, saying,
“Stop crying, or Uncle Afonso won’t speak to you anymore.”
At once, the boy would quiet down.
When she needed something, she would call Afonso over and command him in a way that left no room for refusal. And Afonso would obey immediately, as though her servant. Perhaps she believed that she had claimed ownership of Afonso’s loyalty.
After spending six months with her family, Camila prepared to return to her husband’s house.
Afonso accompanied her to the train station. Once she settled in her seat, he placed the child in her lap. A tear escaped his eye, which he quickly wiped away, turning his head to hide his emotion. He didn’t want Camila to see, especially as her own eyes seemed dry, indifferent. Still, he couldn’t help but feel the sadness tugging at his heart, wondering when he would see her again.
With a touch of pride, Camila said:
“The boy will miss you a lot in the coming days.”
Afonso, his voice choked, replied, “I won’t forget his face as long as I live.”
“Do write sometimes,” she said.
“Should I?”
“But I won’t reply; remember that.”
“Don’t reply. I don’t ask for it… just remember me.”
The train began to pull away. Afonso kept his gaze fixed on her window. A little distance down the track, he saw Camila lean out and look back at him, holding the child in her arms for one last glimpse.
In that moment, Afonso’s heart seemed to soar out of his chest, as if it would reach her. He felt a strange happiness, as though his purpose in life had been fulfilled.
But . . .
But what lies ahead for Afonso and Camila?
Will the flame of unspoken emotions flicker out, or is it destined to ignite once again? With distance between them, will Afonso find a way to move on, or will he be drawn back into the uncharted waters of love and loyalty?
Stay tuned for Part 4, where unexpected turns may change everything.
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