Later that evening, Marilena sits comfortably on the couch, her legs curled beneath her, the soft glow of the television illuminating the room. She's watching a telenovela, one she's seen a dozen times before, but tonight, the storyline feels different. The drama unfolding on-screen—a couple facing a betrayal after years together—seems to cut deeper than usual. Her eyes linger on the couple's confrontation, where the woman discovers her partner's lies, and it stirs something deep inside her, something painful she thought she had buried long ago.
Her hand reaches for her glass of wine, but her gaze stays fixed on the screen. The scene before her is too familiar—too real. And as the characters shout at each other, accusing and blaming, Marilena's mind drifts.
It's as though time rewinds, and she's no longer sitting in her living room, watching a soap opera. Suddenly, she's two months back, on the evening of her fifth anniversary with Rafael.