His silence after demanding the DNA test terrified me more than I wanted to admit.
He had pushed for that test with such urgency—such fury—and then…
Nothing.
No calls. No visits. No moves I could see.
Only that grinding silence, day after day, eating away at my nerves.
I shivered and forced my face to stay calm among the people who depended on me.
“Val! This photo is perfect!” Camila exclaimed, holding up an old image of the main square packed with people during a local festival. “We have to feature this. We have to show everyone what’s really at stake.”
I smiled and took the photo, trying once again to push the envelope—and the suffocating thoughts—down.
One thing at a time.
For now, all I could do was keep moving… and wait, heart tight, for what came next.
Hours passed. Slowly, people began to leave, taking with them a renewed sense of hope and determination. I sent them off with smiles and thanks, performing a serenity I did not feel.
“Thank you for everything, Val,” Júlia said softly, holding my hands. “You’ve been incredible.”
I hugged her briefly, my chest tightening with a bittersweet mix of gratitude and doubt.
“We’re in this together,” I said firmly, even if my voice sounded weaker than I wanted.
As soon as she left, I locked the door and leaned my back against the wood with a heavy sigh. The silence that settled over the bakery immediately allowed every thought I’d been forcing down since the court officer arrived to slam back into me.
I went to an empty table, pulled out a chair, and sat hard. I took the envelope from my apron pocket—now it felt like it was burning my hands.
With trembling fingers, I broke the seal and unfolded the paper, heart pounding as my eyes scanned the formal, impersonal language.
I read it once.
Twice.
Three times.
As if I might find an error. As if it couldn’t possibly be real.
But the words were too clear.
My heart felt like it might tear through my ribs.
The bank that had financed my home and my bakery had unilaterally changed the terms of my loan. The new payments were absurd—impossible within the deadlines given.
I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting tears.
“This can’t be happening,” I whispered, a dark cloud of panic closing in.
Everything I had built—every sleepless night, every drop of sweat, blood, and tears—
now threatened from two sides.
And I had no idea how I was supposed to fix any of it.
Before I could even begin to organize my thoughts, my phone buzzed on the table.
