The Rio de Janeiro sky was golden that afternoon. The sun was beginning to set, tinting the horizon with orange hues, while a gentle breeze danced among the coconut tree leaves.
On television and in newspapers, the headlines talked about nothing else:
"Sophia Alcântara arrested while attempting to flee the country"
"Former model accused of attempted homicide and identity fraud"
"Sophia's Fall: from fashion icon to criminal investigation"
The arrest happened at the airport, with a ticket purchased for Greece and fake documents.
But there was no scandal. Sophia walked with dark sunglasses and head lowered, surrounded by federal police officers.
She didn't cry.
She knew it was the end.
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On the other side of the city, Eduardo, now recovered and more alive than ever, was organizing something he had been planning for weeks.
Nothing excessively luxurious. No exposure.
Just an intimate, special, and genuine moment.
