The days that followed felt like a blur. Mariane woke up every morning to the same silent routine, but something seemed to have changed. The atmosphere in the house, once warm and full of life, now felt heavy and distant. The faces of the other children, once full of energy and laughter, now were marked by uncertainty, the anticipation of something beyond their control. Conversations that were once lively were now exchanged in hushed whispers, and the corridors of the house seemed to be enveloped in an unsettling stillness.
She spent the days wandering through empty rooms or seeking refuge in the garden, trying to make sense of what was happening to her and everyone around her. She felt an almost physical need to understand what lay behind this change, but she didn't know where to begin. The people around her seemed so distant, as though they all shared a secret she was not privy to. At times, Mariane felt like her mind was being pulled in different directions, her thoughts colliding with each other.
Time seemed to drag on. Each day felt longer than the last. The absence of laughter, the lack of spontaneous conversations, the unease in the faces of the adults and even the older children—everything made her feel more lost. She wondered if the others felt this too, or if she was the only one aware of what was going on. She no longer knew who to trust or who to talk to. Dona Helena, always so attentive, was different now, more distant, as though she were bearing a weight far heavier than Mariane could understand.
It was one night when the truth began to unfold. Dona Helena, with her usual gentleness, called Mariane to have a talk. She was sitting at the table, her hands clasped together, looking sad but firm. When Mariane entered the office, a sense of foreboding washed over her immediately. Something was about to happen.
"Mariane," Dona Helena began, her voice soft, yet tinged with a seriousness that Mariane could feel. "There is something I need to tell you. Tomorrow will be your last day here."
The words hit Mariane like a punch to the stomach. Time seemed to stand still. *Tomorrow?* This couldn't be true. She wasn't prepared. She wasn't ready to leave, she didn't even know where to begin understanding what that meant.
"I know it's hard to accept," Dona Helena continued, her voice breaking a little, "but it's time for you to move on. The family that will take you in has made all the preparations. They'll be here tomorrow morning to meet you."
Mariane felt the floor slip away from under her. She wanted to say something, to ask what this meant, how her new life would be, but she couldn't. The words were stuck in her throat as if there was a physical block preventing her from speaking. She had always known that this day would come, but she never imagined it would come so suddenly.
"I'm not ready," Mariane whispered, the fear in her voice evident.
Dona Helena smiled gently, though her eyes were full of sadness. "No one is really ready for change, Mariane. Sometimes it's the only way. But you'll see, this change will allow you to grow, to live the life you've always dreamed of. And never forget where you came from. You'll always be a part of us, here."
Her words were kind, but Mariane felt an immense weight on her shoulders. *I don't want to go*, she thought. *I can't leave*. The future felt far too frightening, and the thought of leaving behind everything she had known at the orphanage seemed unbearable.
That night, after everyone had gone to sleep, Mariane couldn't stop thinking about what she had just heard. She was alone in her room, her eyes fixed on the walls as if they could reveal some hidden truth. The orphanage, which had been her home, now felt like a prison that was letting her go, but at the same time, forcing her into a fate she hadn't chosen. She wished more than anything that time could rewind, that she could still be part of this house, of the children and adults who had been her family for so long.
As she stared out the window, a light rain began to fall, tapping gently against the glass with a soft, persistent sound. She had always loved the rain. It calmed her, as if the world could be kinder, more understanding when the sky was wet and dark. But now, the rain seemed like another reminder of what was coming, of what she couldn't control. The fear of the unknown surrounded her.
When Maria Clara entered the room quietly, Mariane wasn't surprised, though she didn't know what to expect. Maria Clara's expression was concerned, as though she already knew something was happening but didn't know how to help.
"Can I come in?" Maria Clara asked softly.
"Of course," Mariane replied, moving away from the window and turning to face her.
Maria Clara sat down beside Mariane, looking out the window in silence, observing the rain. Neither of them knew what to say. The weight of the situation was too great to be undone with simple words. Finally, Maria Clara spoke, her voice trembling a little.
"I know it's hard, Mariane. I… I don't know what you're feeling, but… you need to understand that, in some way, this is the best thing for you. Maybe we can't see it now, but the future might be brighter than we think."
Mariane turned to look at her, her eyes filled with sadness and uncertainty. "I… I don't want to go. I don't know what will happen to me. What will happen to us? To me, without you all?"
Maria Clara sighed and looked away as though searching for the right words. "I know it's going to be hard. We'll miss you so much. But you're going to have the chance to discover new things, new ways of being. No matter how tough it gets, I know you have a strength inside you that will help you get through it. And even when we part, you'll carry everything you've learned here with you."
Mariane remained silent for a moment, contemplating Maria Clara's words. She felt empty inside, but she also knew that Maria Clara was trying to help, trying to find a way to ease the pain. But Mariane couldn't see anything but fear, insecurity. She looked out the window once again. The rain was heavier now, and the sound of the droplets seemed to symbolize the world's cry, as if the entire universe was grieving along with her.
When Maria Clara stood up to leave, she paused in the doorway and looked at Mariane, who was still lost in her thoughts. "I'll miss you so much, Mariane. But I know you'll be strong. You've always been strong."
Mariane tried to smile, but the words were stuck in her throat. What could she say that would be enough to express what she felt? "I'll miss you too."
When Maria Clara left, Mariane stayed there, lost in her own thoughts. The future was at her door, but she didn't know if she was ready to face it. However, she knew there was no turning back. Tomorrow was coming, and she would have to face it somehow.
The next morning, when the sun had barely risen, Mariane was already awake, her suitcase packed beside her bed. The silence in the house was even deeper now, as if everyone was waiting for the end of an era. As she walked through the halls, Mariane felt her heart tighten. Every step she took took her further from what she knew, from what she loved, but it also brought her closer to a destiny she still couldn't comprehend.
Dona Helena was waiting for her at the door. She smiled, but her eyes were filled with sadness. "Are you ready, Mariane?"
She didn't know what to say. "I… I don't know, Dona Helena. I'm not ready."
Dona Helena hugged her, and Mariane felt the weight of the farewell. It was real. It was the end of one chapter of her life, and the beginning of something new. Something she didn't yet understand, but that she would have to face.
As the car pulled away from the house, Mariane looked back, one last time, before the orphanage disappeared from sight. She felt her heart ache, but she also felt that, somehow, she would always carry that place with her. It would never leave her.
The future was ahead of her. And, no matter how frightening it seemed, Mariane knew there was no turning back. She would have to face what was to come.