The alarm screamed like it had a personal grudge.
Half-asleep, I grabbed my phone and squinted at the screen.
6:00 A.M.
Thank God, it was only the first one.
Still dizzy with sleep, I sat up and started silencing the other five alarms I'd set the night before, a desperate attempt to outsmart my own will to stay in bed.
The room was quiet except for the hum of the fan and the faint chorus of car horns outside.
Waiting for my body to remember how to exist, I looked out the window.
The sky was heavy and gray, and I couldn't tell if it meant rain or just São Paulo's usual pollution pretending to be weather.
I stumbled to the shower.
The cold water yanked me back to life, or at least far enough to keep my eyes open.
In the mirror, things didn't get better.
My dark-brown hair had rebelled overnight, somewhere between slightly wavy and bird-nest tragedy.
My eyes were puffy, my dark circles stubborn as ever. I blamed my Ecology professor. Who even schedules a surprise test on a Monday?
I sighed and got dressed.
My skin was flushed from the shower, freckles standing out more than usual, and the tiny mole by my lip—my mom called it "my lucky mark"—looked like it was mocking me.
I stared at my reflection for a moment. Yes, I wanted to look grown-up and functional.
But all I saw was an exhausted college student in a faded Academic Center T-shirt with a unicorn towel on her shoulder.
Then I glanced at the clock and my heart stopped.
6:48.
"Crap!" I muttered, tripping as I shoved notebooks and a water bottle into my backpack.
Didn't even zip it properly before bolting out the door.
I ran to the bus stop, sneakers splashing through puddles.
Just in time to watch the bus pull away, the driver giving me that you almost made it look.
Unbelievable. I'd actually gotten up early, and still missed it.
"Fantastic," I panted, collapsing onto the bench to wait for the next one.
My stomach growled. Maybe I should've eaten.
Twenty minutes later, the next bus finally arrived.
I took a window seat and sighed.
Everyone looked half-dead.
Some were dozing off, others staring blankly at nothing.
It was Monday.
Proof that capitalism always wins.
When I reached campus, there were barely fifteen minutes before class started.
I hesitated, but hunger won.
I grabbed a lukewarm coffee and a cold sandwich—survival breakfast—and rushed to the classroom.
Lívia was already there, sprawled across her chair with her headphones in and her backpack draped dramatically over a notebook.
Even when I sat down beside her, she didn't notice.
"Hey, Li, still breathing?" I asked, sliding the notebook out from under her head. Ecology.
She looked up, wide-eyed and desperate.
"Breathing? Barely. What even is this?"
I didn't blame her. I'd studied half the night and still doubted I'd survive this test.
"Tell me something," she said, her amber eyes narrowing in mock seriousness. "Do you think he fought with his wife and decided to punish us for it?"
"Half of that sounds about right," I muttered around a mouthful of sandwich.
Unlike her, I'd already accepted that the ship was sinking.
Between work and late nights, studying properly had become a luxury.
Lívia propped her chin on her hands and groaned dramatically.
"So there's a woman involved. I knew it."
I wasn't sure if she believed that or was just trying to distract herself. Sometimes her mind worked on its own chaotic frequency.
"There's nothing like that," I said quickly. "Don't start rumors, I still need to pass his wife's class."
Everyone knew Professor Gomes was hopelessly in love with his wife, who also taught at the university.
She laughed.
"Helena, you're way too easy to scare. I'm joking. Still, I'm furious about that pop quiz. I studied all weekend and learned absolutely nothing."
She slumped back, completely defeated.
I patted her shoulder with a tired smile.
"We're in this together, friend."
While we were busy mourning our academic deaths, Miguel walked over.
He had that good-guy aura, rolled-up sleeves, an easy smile, light-brown hair, and that quiet charm that always seemed to work.
Not tall, but confident enough to make it irrelevant. Definitely the kind who had admirers.
"Morning, girls," he greeted. "Helena, the project group's meeting this afternoon. You're still in, right?"
"Yeah, of course," I said. "Two o'clock?"
"Yep." He smiled, pulling a chair closer. "I thought about sending you the article by email, but I'd rather discuss it in person."
"No problem. We agreed on that last week."
Lívia eyed him like she was examining a new species.
"Miguel, right?"
"That's me."
"You're the guy who got a nine-point-five on the genetics report?"
He chuckled, a little proud.
"Guilty."
"Congratulations," she said sweetly. "You've officially become the most hated person in the class."
He laughed again.
"I swear that wasn't my goal."
He chatted mostly with Lívia but kept glancing at me, like he needed silent approval.
I wasn't in the mood.
"Sure it wasn't," she teased. "But next time, give people a warning before you traumatize them. Anyway, my Helena doesn't let grades crush her spirit."
I shot her a look, and she blinked innocently, too innocently.
I sighed, pressing a hand to my face. Subtlety had never been her thing, and I still wasn't sure if she did it on purpose.
She snickered but stopped when the professor walked in.
Miguel looked like he wanted to say something else but changed his mind.
"Good luck on the test," he said quietly before heading back to his seat.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Lívia turned to me, grinning.
"So that's Miguel. Cute, smart, and obviously into you since last year."
"He's not into me," I said, grabbing my pen. "He's just nice."
"Nice is code for totally crushing. Be serious, why don't you give him a chance?"
The professor started passing out the tests.
I just smiled faintly at her.
She sighed, muttering,
"You're a lost cause."
Miguel was everything that should've drawn me in.
Kind. Smart. Attractive.
But nothing happened.
No skipped heartbeat, no fluttering stomach, no stupid urge to chase after him.
When the professor moved away, I whispered,
"He's nice. I just don't know."
Lívia studied me for a second.
"You're thinking about someone else, aren't you?"
I pretended not to hear.
She smirked.
"Knew it."
"Hey, you two!" the professor barked. "Lívia, Helena! If you'd rather gossip, the door's right there!"
I straightened up, trying to look serious, while Lívia stifled a laugh, eyes still full of curiosity.
I stared down at the test, but my mind was somewhere else.
It had been less than twenty-four hours since I'd seen him.
And as ridiculous as it sounded, my brain kept replaying that moment like a looped movie scene.
I smiled to myself, earning a suspicious side-eye from my nosy best friend, and forced my focus back to the paper.
Because deep down, I knew life had more surprises waiting,
maybe even bigger than that Sunday, a dog named Amora,
and the look I still couldn't forget.