Sure! Here’s the translation:

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**(AMANDA)**

It’s already eight in the evening. After a quick shower, I’ve put on a rather modest purple nightgown and settled back on the sofa. My hair is still wet and combed back, just like before. Gavin offers me a beautiful porcelain mug filled with chamomile tea. The scent intoxicates my senses, and I take a deep breath before sipping it.

As we drink tea, we chat about trivial things. He confesses that he occasionally reads my books and even has a favorite, but won’t tell me which one to preserve the surprise. He also reminisces about always enjoying reading and writing but having to give up his old passion to focus on more profitable activities that would keep him further from the business world.

I blink. It makes sense that such a sensitive man beside me could have been an artist. Why hadn’t he pursued his aspirations? After all, he was already a millionaire and could do whatever he pleased. Or was the English course for Brazilians a sort of backup income in case everything went awry?

Gavin takes a break and fetches a plate with coconut donuts for us to enjoy with the tea. The donut is crunchy and sweet, and I notice the happiness on his face as he sees me enjoying something so simple. It’s clear that he values my well-being, probably above his own. If I were a bad person, I could easily take advantage of that. Did he do this all the time?

I think back to the night we were on the apartment’s balustrade and Gavin opened his heart about his ex-fiancée. It was evident that my host had truly loved her at some point, doing everything to make her happy. The betrayal shattered his heart into a thousand pieces, and his sensitivity ended up costing him clarity of thought, leading him to improbable situations and places. Yet, even after going through that, chewing and accepting the disappointment from someone who could have been by his side until today, Gavin still believed he could be happy. He still had faith that he would find love again... and that it could start with me.

No pressure.

Donovan seemed to be the more discreet one about his own life. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust me, but he saw no point in sharing information that wouldn’t bring me anything good or be truly useful. Moreover, his outburst this afternoon left me lost in thought with a mountain of questions. He had been through very bad things, and like me, had faced the shadow of death. Donovan was strong enough to seek help instead of trying again, and in that, he had already surpassed me. But I wanted to know why, what had led him down that path of darkness.

My old impression of the two friends was this: Gavin was the younger one and constantly needed guidance, while Donovan was the leader among them, older and therefore told Gavin what to do and how. But it was something much more complex. It would be easy to label one as “emotional” and the other as “rational,” pointing out the pre-defined roles of each. The truth was that both had their own peculiarities in both aspects, not necessarily fitting any stereotype.

Donovan was indeed sensitive, but in his own way. He didn’t cry all the time or lament his own fate or others' with murmured words. It was in silence that the dark-skinned, muscular man concentrated when he was about to say something difficult or touch him. His usually proud and confident expressions wavered, often looking down or sideways. And of course, sometimes his eyes filled with tears, but he would hold them back at all costs.

Since he was a man used to suppressing his own emotions to explore others’, it was natural for him to behave that way. It didn’t bother me, although I admit it would be very interesting to hear him talk about exactly what was happening or what feelings were in his chest. I imagine it must have been particularly difficult for him to confess his feelings to me that afternoon, especially anticipating my rejection.

Gavin also had his serious, confident, and risk-taking side, but it rarely showed. When I was in the middle of the crisis after the terrible nightmare, for instance, I noticed the drastic change in his tone when he explicitly stated that he would kill everyone who had harmed me. It was a deep, threatening tone, nothing like Gavin’s natural, light, and relaxed voice.

That anger, or rather, directed hatred, seemed to be activated when something or someone Gavin loved was hurt or severely wronged. Gavin couldn’t stand hurting others and would happily sacrifice himself to spare those he cared about, and consequently, he couldn’t assimilate or accept that others could hurt them, becoming truly furious about it.

Imagining Gavin facing the faces of my nightmares, being so close to such bad people, creates a physical ache in my chest. Looking at the half-empty tea mug, I wonder if he could survive if he ever crossed paths with them.

— What’s wrong? — he asks, noticing my sudden change in expression.

Before I can contain myself or shift my thoughts, my fingers grip the mug tighter, and tremors make the contents shake. Gently, Gavin takes the mug from my hands and looks at me deeply, touching one of my shoulders afterward.

— Talk to me. What happened?

I swallow hard. Then I look away from his gaze.

— I... I think I’m just a bit anxious.

— And what’s making you anxious?

“Knowing that you might die because of me if you ever put yourself in front of the people who hurt me and make the mistake of thinking you can take revenge for me without paying a high price later,” is what I want to say. But of course, I don’t.

Instead, I lower my eyes and say quietly:

— I’m afraid.

Gavin furrows his brows, which I already recognize as his eventual expression of pity. I continue:

— I don’t know what’s going to happen to me from now on. I’m improving over time, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to... live again. You know?

He nods, paying close attention to every word.

— There will come a time when I’ll need to leave... Try to rebuild something. Or start from scratch, I’d say — I place both hands on my temples, gently massaging. — I don’t know if I’ll be able to. If I’ll be strong enough for it.

I expect Gavin to come closer, hug me, kiss my forehead, and tell me not to worry about that now. But going against his usual script in such situations, the Californian steps back instead of coming closer. He rests his head on the back of the sofa, looking up and taking a deep breath. Then he says:

— Your fear is unfounded.

I blink, the only sign of surprise I allow to show.

Before I can ask for clarification and understand exactly what he meant by that, he continues:

— Because at no point did I say you would need to leave.

---

**(DONOVAN)**

I don’t exactly know why I’m doing this.

It’s rare for me to make decisions purely on impulse. Although it was common in my youth, after thirty I simply acquired a strong sense of planning. I wouldn’t take a step without thinking about the next five, and I evaluated everything around me to make sure I wasn’t being led astray. Even so, there were times when hesitation won, and in the end, I wouldn’t make a decision at all and preferred to abstain from any opinion, comment, or action. However, there were times when I acted first and thought later.

And definitely, what I was about to do at that moment fell into that category.

I park my Audi in the now-empty parking space. The sea breeze hits me with full force, like a stone in the face.

Surrounded only by the avenue behind me and the rocks right in front of me, I’m back at Botafogo Beach. The place where it all began, the line separating my life before and after meeting Amanda.

Carefully, I maneuver between the slippery rocks and choose the least dangerous and steep place to sit. To my astonishment, as I settle down, I realize that it was exactly here that I had settled last time... That time.

It was only a few months ago, but given the impact this woman had on our lives, our paths... It felt like we had known her for much longer. It was incredible that she had started speaking only a few months ago, but even before she could make any sound, she used her companionship, intelligence, and affection towards us in the best way she could. Her eyes were always so expressive, as were her lips and hands, and it was perfectly easy to understand exactly how her mind worked and what was going on in that special little heart.

I was physically taller, more developed, and could even intimidate some people, but Amanda never saw me that way. She never feared me or fully believed in my dominant personality that always knew what to do and say. She saw what I truly was and not only liked what she saw but wanted it to come out more often. Her sweetness and tenderness could break through all my barriers, and to be honest, it was very good to be completely myself with her.

When I told Amanda the things I felt and what I planned for us, I felt like a silly college kid again, shy in front of a pretty girl and needing to rely on charm to get at least one kiss. I, the vice-president of Urus, who spoke firmly and without room for doubt with men as or more influential than me from all over the country and the world, was shy in the presence of a girl who could easily be half my size and a third of my weight.

It’s true that I had the urge to protect her and would do everything in my power, and beyond, to ensure nothing bad happened to her. But she

also protected me, even without knowing it. On bad days, when it was my own emotions that were messing with my mind and preventing me from behaving properly and clearly, just knowing that she was there made my gears start functioning again.

More than that: Amanda felt for me what I felt for her, and it was no longer speculation. Not only was she in love with me, but she also wanted to spend more time with me. She craved my company, missed me just as I missed her.

Did she also lie in bed thinking about what I was doing? Did she write about me in her diary? What were her most secret thoughts about me? Was there any flaw in me that she had noticed and that might cost me her affection?

I was silly, completely smitten, and, if I were willing to admit it... Surrendered. Yes, I was submitted to Amanda’s feelings and needs. If she wanted something, I would give it to her. If she needed an anchor to prevent her from sinking into the hell of her past, I would be it. There was no weakness in admitting that I was a passionate man who would do whatever it took for the sake of my little one.

However, I couldn’t forget that, although I had admitted my feelings for her, there was another person in the mix. Not a complete stranger who could easily be overcome and left behind, but my best friend and the man who gave new meaning to my life when I truly believed it was the end.

And that wasn’t fair.

Gavin had already witnessed my failure in the first and only time I truly tried to have someone by my side. So much dedication, planning, and care were utterly useless, and in the end, besides a bitter taste in my mouth, I ended up with ingratitude and the feeling of being stabbed twenty times in the back. That abandonment and lack of consideration left me quite shaken, almost leading to a brief relapse and forcing me to desperately cling to the solid friendship with my Californian friend.

I owed Gavin a lot. I was ashamed of my words used at the tea house when I insulted him by saying he needed me for everything and would never be able to do anything on his own. Luckily for me, although Gavin usually lost his temper easily, he chose to hold his tongue and not destroy me with the truth: “you wouldn’t be here telling me this if it weren’t for my complete willingness to help you, ungrateful.”

And to be honest, it would be completely deserved if I heard that.

I’m sure the blondie had already noticed how I behaved around Amanda for a while, probably putting two and two together and coming to his own conclusions. What would be the reason for him not to have said anything before, confronted me, or even admitted that he felt something for her too? Why did he choose to stay silent and extend the situation?

I focus on the waves crashing against the rocks below. Then I direct my gaze to the exact spot where we found Amanda, who was initially sitting and rocking back and forth in a sort of restrained outburst.

We wanted to help a girl with psychological problems and on the brink of suicide, and now we were completely in love with her.

Worse, she was also completely in love... with both of us.

It wasn’t easy for me, of course. But it wasn’t easy for her either. I imagine that for Gavin, it must have been true torment, a divine punishment, the wrath of nature falling upon his skin.

Be that as it may, I wouldn’t give up or back down, as they say around here, until I heard from Amanda’s own lips that she didn’t desire me. She should tell me in no uncertain terms that she felt nothing for me beyond friendship and that there was no way to have any kind of romantic relationship with me. Only then could I dismiss the idea and finally let her be free for Gavin.

I clench my fists. The image of them together, probably getting engaged and married, starting a family, makes me nauseous and almost dizzy. I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself by looking at the Moon.

Everything would unfold. I just didn’t know how long I should wait to see the results or not.