It was an ordinary Tuesday in March — the kind of day that feels endless under the sun.The heat was merciless, crawling through my uniform and turning every street visit into a slow battle against exhaustion. I had already fixed routers, climbed poles, and rebooted modems all over the city. My hands were dusty, my shirt damp with sweat.
The last service order of the day popped up on my phone: "Connection unstable – Apartment, Ponta Negra."I sighed. One more, then I'm done.
I parked the van, grabbed my tools, and took the elevator up. The hallway smelled faintly of detergent and home-cooked food. When I reached the door, I pressed the doorbell. Footsteps approached.
And then the door opened.
That moment — that single moment — is something I'll never forget.
Standing there was a young woman, maybe nineteen or twenty, with short brown hair that brushed her neck and light brown eyes that seemed almost golden under the sunlight. Her features were simple, but her smile… it was warm, almost magnetic.
"Hi! You're from the Internet company, right?" she asked with a laugh that sounded like it belonged in a calm, happy place."Yeah," I replied, trying to sound casual, "I came to check your connection."
"Great! Come in. The Internet keeps dropping. I can't even watch my animes in peace!"
That word — animes — hit me instantly. It wasn't just a hobby; it was a shared language.
I stepped inside. The apartment was small but cozy. The walls were lined with posters — Naruto, Death Note, Fullmetal Alchemist. Shelves filled with manga volumes, sketchbooks, and art supplies.
"You like anime?" I asked, pretending to check the router settings."I love it! Do you watch too?""Yeah… all the time," I said, smiling.
It was the easiest conversation I'd had in months.While I traced cables and checked the modem lights, we talked about everything — favorite shows, music, life dreams.She liked rock music. I did too. She wanted to be a graphic designer; I wanted to finish college and open my own tech business.Our worlds were completely different, yet something aligned perfectly.
"Do you live alone?" I asked."No," she said. "I live with my parents and my sister. My mom works in insurance, my dad's a travel agent."
Her voice carried a kind of lightness that made me forget how tired I was.
I fixed the problem quickly — it was just a loose cable. But instead of leaving, I lingered. She kept talking, asking about my job, about how it felt to work climbing rooftops and connecting wires. She laughed at my small jokes, and every time she smiled, I felt something inside me shift.
Those forty minutes passed in what felt like seconds.When I finally packed up my tools, a strange hesitation hit me at the door.
"Thanks for coming!" she said. "Hope it doesn't disconnect again.""Yeah… me too," I replied, forcing a smile.
I left, but the air outside felt heavier, emptier.
Driving home, I caught myself replaying her voice in my head, that soft laugh echoing through the silence of the van. Her eyes, her smile, even the way she talked about her favorite anime — everything lingered.
That night, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, thinking about how a random Tuesday could suddenly stop feeling ordinary.
I didn't know it yet, but that visit — that simple "Internet check" — had just changed the direction of my entire life.