The night had not yet ended when Elisa and Eduardo arrived at the penthouse. The car glided silently through the illuminated streets of Rio de Janeiro, but the atmosphere inside was suffocating. Elisa kept her gaze fixed on the city lights that passed swiftly by the window, as if wanting to cling to that movement to avoid thinking about the emptiness that awaited her. Eduardo, on the other hand, remained quiet, rigid in the seat beside her, as if each word were a weight he was unwilling to carry.
Upon arrival, the doorman opened the doors with exaggerated respect, reflecting the prestige of those who inhabited that building. The elevator carried them in silence to the top floor, where the doors opened to reveal Eduardo's penthouse. The space was spacious, modern, and impeccably decorated. Every detail revealed luxury and sophistication, but also the coldness of someone who had transformed a home into a business card. There was no warmth, no life.
Elisa entered slowly, like someone invading enemy territory. Her thin heels echoed on the polished marble, and she felt a twinge of discomfort. The grandeur of the place oppressed her, and at the same time, made it clear she didn't belong there.
Eduardo removed his jacket and dropped it on the back of the sofa, without concerning himself with her. He poured himself a whiskey at the bar in the living room and took a long sip before turning to his new wife.
"This is our home now," he said, without emotion. "I hope you know how to behave accordingly."
Elisa raised her eyes to him, trying to decipher if there was any hidden provocation in his words. But she found only the cold mask he had maintained since the altar.
"You don't need to worry, Eduardo. I have no intention of embarrassing you." Her voice came out firm, but inside her heart was beating erratically.
He nodded with a half-ironic smile and walked away toward the master bedroom, leaving her alone amid the icy luxury of the living room. Elisa took a deep breath, trying to contain the anguish growing inside her. That night, it wasn't just the silence that suffocated her, but the certainty that, even married, she was alone.
---
The next morning arrived heavy, announced by the insistent ring of the telephone. Elisa, still lying in the guest bed—as she hadn't had the courage to share the bed with Eduardo—answered with a voice hushed by sleep.
From the other end, the news hit like lightning: Francisca Santos had passed away during the night.
For a moment, Elisa went silent, as if the ground had disappeared beneath her feet. Her heart tightened and a deep pain took over her. Her grandmother had been her only reference, her silent fortress, and now she was gone without even saying goodbye.
The tears came silently, streaming down her face as she pressed the phone against her ear.
"How... what do you mean? I spoke to her yesterday..." she murmured, unable to believe it.
"It was quick, Elisa. Her heart couldn't hold on. She went peacefully," replied the voice on the other end, full of sorrow.
Eduardo entered the room upon hearing the crying and stopped at the doorway, watching her without approaching. Coffee cup still in hand, he seemed like a stranger in the face of her pain. When Elisa hung up the call, her eyes red and her breathing uneven, he merely asked, without emotion:
"What happened?"
"My grandmother..." her voice faltered. "She died."
A heavy silence settled between them. Elisa was hoping for, perhaps, a minimal gesture of comfort, a word of support. But Eduardo just lowered his eyes and took another sip of coffee.
"I'm sorry." The phrase came out dry, like a formality he needed to fulfill. "I'll arrange the car for the funeral."
And he left.
Elisa felt her chest burn. The absence of empathy was as painful as the loss itself. Alone in the luxurious room, she cried as she hadn't since childhood, hugging herself as her only form of comfort.
---
The funeral was modest but filled with emotion. Elisa dressed in black and stood beside the coffin, observing her grandmother's serene face one last time. The priest's words seemed distant, muffled by the dull pain that filled her chest.
Eduardo was there, of course, fulfilling the role of the exemplary husband in front of society. His hands were steady, his posture impeccable. But there was nothing beyond that. He didn't touch Elisa, didn't offer a shoulder, didn't say anything beyond formal phrases to acquaintances and family friends.
To those present, he seemed like a strong man, supporting his wife in a difficult moment. But Elisa knew the truth: she was completely alone.
When the coffin was lowered into the earth, a part of her seemed to be buried with it. It was as if she had lost not only her grandmother, but also the only bridge that still connected her to the past, to home, to affection.
---
Back at the penthouse, Eduardo's coldness became even more evident. He would lock himself in his office for hours, immersed in papers and business, as if nothing had happened. Elisa wandered through the wide corridors, lost between glass walls and expensive furniture, trying to get used to a life that seemed more like a gilded prison.
At the first dinner after the mourning, they sat at the long, imposing table, but the silence was so cutting that Elisa could barely swallow her food. Eduardo, with his gaze fixed on his plate, broke the silence only to give an order.
"Tomorrow we'll have dinner with investors. I want you to be present."
She looked at him, surprised.
"My grandmother was buried today, Eduardo. I'm not in any condition to—"
"Life doesn't stop, Elisa." He interrupted her coldly. "You need to understand that if you want to live by my side."
His words sounded like knives, but they also awakened something inside her. A mix of anger and determination. Elisa didn't respond at that moment, but inwardly she promised that she wouldn't let Eduardo crush her.
---
The following nights were silent. Elisa cried softly in her room, while Eduardo remained distant in his. But even in his arrogance, there was something strange: at times, when he thought she didn't notice, his gaze lingered on her. There was curiosity, perhaps even a hint of humanity, but soon he would hide behind his mask of coldness.
Elisa, meanwhile, was beginning to discover that her greatest strength would be precisely silence. Not the silence of submission, but the silence that holds promises. A promise to resist. A promise to, one day, break down the barriers Eduardo erected.
On that first day of life together, marked by mourning and distance, it became clear that living together would be a silent war. Eduardo with his arrogance, Elisa with her resilience. Two opposite worlds, forced to share the same roof.
And deep down, without realizing it, something was beginning to germinate in both their hearts. It wasn't love, not yet. But it was the seed of a story that neither of them would be able to control.