The theater in Munich gave a standing ovation.
The last note of the violin echoed in the air, followed by a profound silence... a silence that said more than a thousand voices.
It was the end.
Clara Vianna was saying goodbye to the stage.
Backstage, Elisa removed her costume calmly.
Each fold, each sequin, each musical score from memory... everything was stored with care.
With respect.
You'll be missed on stage... commented one of the producers. The world still wanted to see you dance.
Elisa smiled, but didn't answer.
She knew.
Art had saved her.
But now, she was ready to return to who she truly was.
Not a star.
Not a shadow.
Elisa Santos.
Doctor.
Woman.
Whole.
------
Two weeks later, the plane landed discreetly at Galeão Airport.
No fans.
No press.
No Cecília waiting with flowers.
She disembarked with a light suitcase and a steady gaze.
She wore jeans, a gray blazer, and flat shoes.
Her hair tied in a simple bun.
No makeup.
