Page 37 of Please, Forgive Me
Alexandre studied me for a moment, his expression serious, almost paternal—like he was trying to warn me about something I couldn’t see.
“You’re talking like she’s already accepted your six-month deal.”
I smiled, though I knew my confidence might come off as arrogance.
“She will,” I said firmly. “Maria Gabriela doesn’t have options.”
He shook his head, skepticism written all over his face.
“You really think this is going to work? That forcing her to stay will make her see things your way?” he asked, giving me that look I knew so well.
“It’s not about forcing,” I corrected, folding my arms. “It’s about making her realize there’s nowhere else to run. Six months is more than enough for her to change her mind.”
Alexandre exhaled, shaking his head again but dropping the subject. He knew that once I’d set my mind on something, there was little chance of changing it.
“Just… be careful,” he said quietly. “Sometimes the control we think we have can turn against us.”
I knew he was right. But deep down, I wasn’t worried. Maria Gabriela was mine, and one way or another, I’d make sure she stayed exactly where I wanted her.
CHAPTER 15
“The heart has reasons that reason itself can’t understand…”
MARIA GABRIELA
Today was calmer, and for the first time in days, I could finally breathe.
After all the chaos with Diego and his six-month proposal, I decided what I needed most was a break. So I headed to my mother’s house.
She lived only a few streets away. My mom and I had always had a special bond, and I knew spending time with her would soothe my mind like nothing else could.
She’d just come back from a short trip to Gramado, in Rio Grande do Sul—a trip I’d helped plan, and one she more than deserved. She hadn’t traveled in nearly ten years, and it was something I’d put off for far too long because of the debts my father had left behind, a burden we’d carried together for years.
As I walked toward her house, my thoughts slipped back to those darker days—when the bills piled up and loan sharks pounded on our door, demanding repayment for what my father had borrowed. He’d passed away a few years ago, a sudden heart attack, but the debts didn’t die with him. I remembered the desperation of trying to pay everything off while pretending to be strong for my mom.
But finally, the storm had passed. The debts were nearly gone. I’d managed to get my finances in order and, with careful planning, had given my mother the chance to breathe easier. That trip was my small gift to her—a way of saying we were stepping into a new chapter.
When I rang the bell, the familiar sound instantly calmed me. Seconds later, the door swung open, and there she was.
My mother greeted me with a warm smile, the kind that could light up an entire room. Time had been kind to her, I always thought.
We looked so much alike. Her hair, now streaked with gray, fell in soft waves over her shoulders, just like mine did when I left it natural, before I dyed it darker. Her eyes mirroredmine too—large, expressive, a shade of blue that seemed to shift with the light. When I was younger, I used to joke she could pass for my older sister, and even now, with fine lines around her eyes, she carried that same serene beauty people never failed to admire.
“Sweetheart!” She pulled me into a tight hug, and I closed my eyes, sinking into the safety of it. My mom had always been my anchor, and in that embrace I felt a sense of security I’d been missing lately.
“How was the trip, Mom?” I asked as we stepped inside.
The smell of fresh coffee filled the air, wrapping me in the comfort only a mother’s home could offer.
“Oh, it was wonderful,” she said, her eyes sparkling with excitement I hadn’t seen in her for so long. “Gramado is everything they say and more. The food, the sights… I even met a few interesting people on the tour!”
I sat at the kitchen table while she poured the coffee. Watching her this animated was everything—like life had finally returned to her after years of being stuck at home, weighed down by the past.
“I’m so glad you enjoyed it, Mom. You’ve deserved this trip for such a long time.”
She sat down beside me, giving me that motherly look that always seemed to see right through me. But she knew today wasn’t the day for heavy topics. We both understood that work—especially after all the recent drama—wasn’t something I wanted to drag into this moment.
“You know, sweetheart…” she said, gently taking my hand, “I was talking to a woman in Gramado, and she told me how she started traveling alone after her kids left home. I was thinking maybe I could try that. What do you think?”
