Page 120 of Please, Forgive Me
“Can I at least know what it is, or is it top secret?” Alexandre pressed, his curiosity obvious.
“For now, it’s a secret,” I said, keeping my tone deliberately mysterious. “But when the time comes, you’ll be the first to know. I just need to make sure everything’s in place before I take the next step.”
He nodded, understanding I wasn’t going to give him more than that.
“All right, I’ll respect that. But I’ll be keeping an eye on you—don’t forget that.”
“I know you will,” I said with a faint smile. “You always do, don’t you?”
And just like that, we went back to work—but my mind was already miles away, mapping out every detail of what was coming next. I couldn’t afford to make mistakes, not this time.
I’d learned the hard way that rushing things only led to disaster, and if I wanted things to truly work with Maria Gabrielaand Clara, I had to be patient, careful, and—above all—honest, both with them and with myself.
Because deep down, I already knew what I wanted: a family. My family.
But that would take more than words or promises. It would take action—and I was ready to do whatever it took to make that dream real.
When I got home, I made a point of savoring every second with my son.
It was one of those rare moments when I could just be a dad—no CEO responsibilities, no weight of an overly complicated past. Sitting on the living room floor with toy cars scattered all around us, I felt lighter. More present.
Arthur laughed, that infectious kind of laugh that filled the room with a warmth that made everything feel simpler. Easier.
I watched him closely, noticing how fast he was growing, how the softness of childhood was slowly giving way to the sharper features of a boy who would soon be older, more independent. I wanted to be there for all of it. I wanted him to know that, despite every mistake I’d made, I was here—really here—with him.
“Dad, look what I made!” he said, proudly showing me a lineup of toy cars he’d arranged in his own unique way.
I smiled, genuinely impressed, and ruffled his hair.
“That’s amazing, champ! Guess you inherited the family’s building skills.”
He laughed, not really getting the joke but happy to have my approval.
That was what mattered to him—to know I was watching, paying attention, involved. And in that moment, I felt grateful for something I used to take for granted.
When I decided to get help, I knew I had to change. Not just for myself, but for him, for Clara—and even for Maria Gabriela. I didn’t want to be the man who always put work above everything else, who pushed people away out of fear of getting hurt again.
No, I needed to be better than that.
I wanted to be the kind of father my son could look up to with pride. The kind of man Maria Gabriela might, maybe one day, see differently.
“Can we build something else, Dad?” Arthur asked, pulling me back to the present.
“Of course,” I said, smiling, a wave of peace washing over me—something I didn’t used to feel often. “Whatever you want, buddy.”
As we started piecing together a new creation from the mess of cars and blocks around us, I realized how these simple moments were shaping a new version of me—one I was actually starting to like.
And right then, I knew I was on the right path.
The time I’d spent away from the company, the therapy sessions, the conversations I’d finally managed to have with Maria Gabriela—all of it was making a difference.
A difference I couldn’t measure in numbers or success charts, but one that, to me, meant more than any professional achievement ever could.
It was a new chapter in my life, and I was ready for whatever came next.
Because now, more than ever, I knew what truly mattered.
And while Arthur focused intently on our latest construction, I allowed myself to smile—grateful for the chanceto finally be the father and the man I’d always wanted to be, even if it had taken me this long to realize it.
