—“I like fries,” she answered honestly. “These are very mushy.”
For the first time in years, the corner of his mouth rose.
Not quite a smile…
but close.
—“Augusto,” Eduardo called, “bring fries for the little girl. And orange juice.”
Clara clapped.
Joana nearly cried.
The rest of the meal was a whirlwind of questions only a toddler could ask:
—“Why don’t you look at things?”
—“Why do your eyes stay still?”
—“Why do you wear dark glasses inside?”
Eduardo answered without hesitation:
—“Because I can’t see anything, Clara.”
She was silent for two seconds. Then she slid off her chair, walked to him, and held his face between her tiny hands.
—“Then I’ll see for you.”
Just like that.
A vow.
A child’s promise that pierced through seven years of emptiness.
That night, Eduardo didn’t eat alone.
And when he went to bed, he realized something astonishing:
The silence in the mansion was the same…
but for the first time in years, it didn’t hurt.
Because now—
he had something to look forward to.
Clara came back the next night.
And the next.
And the next.
Always at seven.
Always climbing onto the chair beside his.
Always filling the house with laughter, questions, mismatched shoes, forgotten toys, and a warmth he didn’t know he was starving for.
And Eduardo—
slowly, quietly—
began to live again.
He just didn’t know yet
that this little girl and her mother were about to change everything—
his heart, his home, his future, and even the empire he thought he had under control.
Because when the past came back to destroy what he was finally building…
Eduardo would have to decide:
Stay safe in darkness
or fight for the light that found him.
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