—It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re here doing a job you’re skilled at… and you hid it. Why?
Lívia remained silent for so long that Thiago thought she wouldn’t answer. Then a tear rolled down his cheek.
—Because if I had said so, you would have hired me as a physiotherapist… not as a cleaner. And I’m not a physiotherapist. I dropped out of university.
—Why did you leave her?
Livia took a deep breath, as if she were putting the pain inside her body.
—My parents died. They were attacked on their way home… they were shot. I was in my last semester. Without them, I couldn’t pay. I tried to work and study, but… I couldn’t. I had to choose.
Thiago felt a blow to his chest. He wanted to say something right, something that sounded like comfort, but sadness cannot be comforted.
-Very sorry…
“It’s not just that,” she said, wiping her face with the back of her hand. “I had a younger brother. Gabriel. He was born with cerebral palsy. He lived alone until he was three… but they were the three most important years of my life.”
Thiago stared at her with wide eyes, as if the whole house had stopped.
—I took care of him since he was a baby. I learned massage, stimulation, exercises… even before I started university. My mom worked all day. I was the one who was with him.
Livia looked at Alice with a tenderness that was heartbreaking.
“When I saw the ad… a baby with paralysis in her legs… I knew I had to come. Not for the money. Not for the job.” Her voice broke. “Because I failed my brother. He died, and I couldn’t save him. But maybe… maybe I can help Alice.”
The silence in the room was heavy, as if the sadness had a physical weight. Thiago looked at his daughter asleep in Lívia’s arms. Alice never slept like that with anyone but him. And now, with her, she seemed to surrender without fear.
“So you’re not here by chance,” Thiago murmured.
“No,” Livia confirmed, looking directly at him. “I’m here because Alice needs me… and maybe I need her too.”
Thiago felt something begin to stir within him. It wasn’t just gratitude. It was respect. It was that strange sensation of seeing a light in the middle of a dark house.
The following weeks changed all three of their lives. The tension between employer and employee melted away, and without realizing it, they built a silent complicity. Thiago still didn’t confess about the cameras. That secret burned like coals in his veins, but he no longer watched to spy. He watched to understand. To learn. To admire.
And to look at Livia.
Because it was impossible not to see her. How she sang while exercising. How she celebrated every little bit of Alice’s progress as if it were a championship. How she spoke to the baby with dignity, as if her body wasn’t a problem, but a path.
In four weeks, Alice was no longer the listless baby in the crib. She crawled around the room using her arms. She had strength in her torso. She had energy. And most surprisingly: she laughed.
The house began to sound different. It was no longer a museum. It was a home.
One afternoon, Thiago arrived at five o’clock and saw a scene that left him stunned. Lívia was getting ready to leave. She took her bag and slung it over her shoulder. Alice, on the rug, saw her… and began to cry as if the world were falling apart.
It wasn’t the crying of a capricious baby. It was real desperation.
Alice crawled towards her, stretching out her little arms, sobbing. And then she said a clear, perfect, impossible word:
—Mom! Mom!
Livia immediately knelt down and took her in her arms. Alice buried her face in Livia’s neck, clinging on as if she feared she would disappear.
Lívia looked at Thiago with tears in her eyes, unsure what to say. Thiago felt his throat tighten.
“She loves you,” he murmured. “Like a daughter loves her mother.”
Livia didn’t respond. She just hugged the baby until she calmed down.
From then on, Thiago started leaving her notes in the kitchen: “Thank you for taking such good care of her.” Then came the discreet gifts: a children’s physiotherapy book she had mentioned, a shawl for cold days, chocolates. Lívia responded with shy smiles and even more intimate gestures: she prepared dinners for him, left food ready, like someone caring for someone without asking permission.
And Thiago started thinking about her when she wasn’t there.
He found himself imagining her face when she woke up. He found himself wondering if she thought about him too. And at night—when guilt gnawed at him—he would watch the recordings not for Alice, but for Lívia: her smile, the way her face lit up when Alice accomplished something.
One night, as he watched Lívia make Alice laugh, Thiago felt something that terrified him: it wasn’t just gratitude. It was attraction. It was desire. It was the need to be near her, to hear her voice without a screen, to touch her hand. It was love, being born where he swore there would be nothing left.
He was frightened by himself. “How can I feel this so soon?” “What kind of man am I?” “Am I betraying Fernanda?” Guilt was a shadow that wouldn’t let him breathe.
And, while he wrestled with those thoughts, fate was preparing its blow.
It was a rainy Thursday in June when everything fell apart. Thiago arrived early, at four o’clock, and felt an eerie silence. Alice was asleep, but the air was tense. He looked for Lívia and found her locked in the bathroom. He heard sobs.
—Lívia… —he knocked on the door—. Are you okay?
Silence. Then the door opened. Livia’s eyes were red, and she held a crumpled piece of paper in her hand. She tried to compose herself.
—Sorry… I shouldn’t cry at work.
Thiago snatched the paper from her before she could hide it. It was an eviction notice. Seven days to vacate her apartment.
—Are you behind on your rent?
Livia nodded, embarrassed.
—Three months. I tried to negotiate… but the owner doesn’t want to.
Thiago felt something break inside him. The thought of Lívia in a shelter, alone, vulnerable, tightened his chest.
“He lives here,” he blurted out without thinking.
-That?
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