The Sky Hidden In Your Eyes E-Book

John Simons

• Herausgeber: Clube de Autores
• Kategorie: Wissenschaft und neue Technologien
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 289

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

They say the deepest encounters don't happen through the body… but through the soul. One hides behind silence. The other beneath a suit of armour. Distance separates them — and, paradoxically, brings them closer. Between typed-out messages, old wounds, and gestures that never touch, an unlikely bond is born… capable of reopening everything they thought was lost. What if it were possible to love without seeing? What if someone, on the other side of the internet, could understand us better than we understand ourselves? A novel about everything left unsaid — and yet, still manages to heal. About miracles that transform. Faith that is reclaimed. …And the most powerful invisible force in the universe.

Leseprobe

THE HIDDEN SKY IN YOUR EYES

CHAPTER 1 – The Invisible Encounter

They say some souls are born with the gift of loving in silence.Joseph was one of them — a man wrapped in solitude, with eyes full of tenderness yet to be revealed. He had never been lucky in love, although he carried within his chest an immense yearning to love — as if he were simply waiting for the right moment… or the right person… to finally awaken.

His work as a GP was steady but monotonous, offering little in the way of stimulation or prospects for progression. He had already divorced the only woman he had ever known: his first girlfriend. He had never been with anyone else, and so, when it came to love and social dynamics with the opposite sex, he had little experience.

One day, he decided to take a chance in the digital world. After all, nowadays many relationships — even marriages — begin online. He knew there were countless sites, some focused on casual encounters, others on long-term relationships. Even on Facebook, unexpected connections could be found.

He created accounts on two of those sites, carefully set up his profile, and began exploring, hoping to find someone with whom he might feel a connection.

He sent a few messages, but had no success — until he came across Susan.

She lived somewhere in England and, of course, English was her first language. In her profile, she described herself as fun-loving, passionate about cats, a music and film enthusiast, fond of travel and good conversation. She was looking for a kind, easygoing man with whom she could talk about anything — someone for a casual relationship that might eventually turn into something more serious.

Joseph was intrigued. Her profile picture was an image of a cat.

A person who chooses an animal as their profile picture must be sensitive… gentle… a good soul, he thought.

His own profile picture was a blurred photo of an empty bench beneath autumn trees. The amber light of late afternoon gave it a suspended-in-time look — which somehow mirrored his own state of mind.

He had hesitated before choosing that image, but he didn’t want to show his face. It wasn’t shame — it was fear that his appearance or age might put people off. He preferred something that said what words couldn’t. A simple, melancholic, silent image.

He decided to use the name Joseph, the international version of his name. Not out of shame for his roots, but knowing that a Portuguese “José” on a foreign site might raise eyebrows or create barriers. He preferred to be known for his essence, not the country of his birth. If the conversation flowed, there would be time to reveal more.

On the other side, Susan saw his request.

The name was “Joseph”, but that didn’t say much. He could be English, American, Canadian… or simply someone with an international name in an increasingly cosmopolitan world.

The profile picture — an empty bench at dusk — gave no clues about where he was from, but there was something mysterious, melancholic, and poetically beautiful about it that immediately drew her in.

And the message, written in clear and correct English, revealed no particular accent or origin.

Where could he be from? she wondered. But she didn’t dwell on it. In the end, what mattered was the conversation.

To her surprise, she found herself replying. The message she sent was warm and natural in tone, with a hint of humour. She thanked him for getting in touch and said she also found his description intriguing.

They had something in common: both felt out of place in the traditional dating scene and were now trying to adapt to the new world of online dating.

They began exchanging messages regularly. At first, the chats were light — favourite films, music from their youth, fond childhood memories. But little by little, he realised there was something rare between them.

She laughed genuinely at his jokes — even the driest ones — and at the clumsy English he was trying so hard to master. At times, however, he suspected she was laughing more at his mistakes than at his intended humour.

And he, who had always been reserved, began to feel more and more comfortable sharing his thoughts.

The nights grew shorter. He’d find himself eager to get home, switch on his computer, and check for a new message from her — just to find out how her day had been.

He felt alive again — more than he had in a long time.

It was as though someone, on the other side of the world, had suddenly lit a candle in a long-dormant corner of his soul.

Susan, in turn, began to see those chats as a kind of confession — not to a priest or a therapist, but better still, to someone who listened without judgement.

She poured out her heart — no deep secrets, but enough that she felt lighter with every message.

As if each written word lifted a burden and banished the dark shadow hanging over her life.

CHAPTER 2 – The Iron Lady

Susan always took the bus to work. Parking near her office was a nightmare, and the bus ride wasn’t too exhausting, even if she had to stand the whole way. Still, the gloomy weather depressed her, and the rain irritated her.

She’d arrive at work in a foul mood, her face tense and lips tightly pressed — to the point that her team would quietly warn one another through the office chat and Teams:

The monster’s coming! The witch is on her way! Watch out! Heads down!

Of course, she knew none of this. She’d walk into her office and call out:

“Mary! Mary! Where’s my tea?”

Mary would rush in with the tea.

“This tea’s no good — lukewarm and poorly made! Go and make another. And bring scones.”

And off Mary would go again, flustered and anxious, to prepare a fresh pot.

The other employees buried their faces in their computer screens, terrified of being the next target.

“Mary, schedule a department meeting for half an hour from now!”

“Everything’s been done wrong — mistake after mistake! Someone’s responsible, and I’m going to find out who!”

Susan sat down at her desk and opened her laptop with a brusque motion.

Rain tapped angrily against the window, and she sighed in frustration.

The cursor blinked on an unfinished report. For a brief moment, her gaze drifted to the raindrops sliding down the glass, as if an answer to what she was feeling might be found there — but there wasn’t.

Then a notification popped up in the corner of the screen:

"Good morning, Susan. I hope your day is starting better than mine. Here, the sky’s grey, but thinking of you makes it seem a little less dull." — Joseph.

Susan read the sentence once. Then twice. Then a third time.

And a faint smile escaped — shy, involuntary.

She closed the laptop for a moment. Took a deep breath. Then called out to Mary, this time in a calmer tone:

“Mary… forget the scones. Just bring the tea with milk. And… sorry about earlier.”

Mary looked at her in surprise but said nothing — only nodded slightly and walked out slowly.

Outside, the sky was still grey.

But inside… something had perhaps begun to lift.

The department meeting was shorter than usual. There were still a couple of curt remarks and some pointed requests, but nothing like the usual “Hurricane Stack” that often struck on rainy mornings.

The team began exchanging quiet glances, not quite sure what to make of the change in atmosphere.

Mary, who had been bracing herself for the second telling-off of the day, was stunned when Susan simply handed her a note with instructions and said:

“Thank you, Mary.”

No shouting. No sarcasm.

Just… a “thank you.”

Back at her desk, Susan reopened her laptop and reread Joseph’s message.

This time, she replied:

“Good morning, Joseph. It’s raining here too. But your message brought a little ray of sunshine. I don’t know how you do it. I hope your day finds shelter in something beautiful as well.”

That afternoon, the rest of the staff noticed something else unusual:

Susan had left her office door slightly ajar — which was unheard of. Normally, she would shut it firmly and isolate herself.

For the first time in ages, a bit of music could be heard — soft instrumental jazz.

Mary, stunned, whispered to a colleague:

“Something’s happening. Either she’s been possessed… or she’s fallen in love.”

Susan didn’t hear the comment, but perhaps she would have smiled.

Because that afternoon, she wasn’t just more productive — she was lighter.

She smiled twice (small, hesitant smiles, but smiles nonetheless), and when the day came to an end, she didn’t leave with her usual brisk wave.

She said, clearly:

“Good evening, everyone. Well done today.”

And when she got home, she took off her shoes, let down her hair, and looked at herself in the mirror.

“Still here, Susan…" she murmured to herself. "Still the same sad face, but maybe there’s something changing inside.”

She sat on the sofa, and Pepper, the cat, jumped onto her lap.

The laptop opened with its familiar chime.

A new message was already waiting for her.

CHAPTER 3 – The Good Adviser

The conversations flowed, day after day, with a lightness Joseph no longer thought possible.

One day, Susan wrote in a different tone — curt, fed up, and stripped of her usual polish. There was weariness in her words...

It wasn’t just casual chatter anymore. He was beginning to get to know the woman behind the feline avatar. That was when Susan opened up about work:

Susan:Today was one of those days... I swear, I was this close to throwing my laptop out the window 😩

Joseph:Trouble at work?

Susan:As always 🙄I manage a department in a logistics firm. And my team seems to have studied from the handbook of how not to work.

Joseph:Ouch. That bad?

Susan:So bad I can’t even get angry anymore. Today, one of them forgot to send out an urgent shipment. When I confronted him, he just said, Oops, I forgot. It happens. Sorry.As if he’d just dropped a biscuit on the floor 😤

Joseph:And then you’re the one left dealing with angry clients, right?

Susan:Of course. I’m the one who has to put out all the fires.The bosses want results, the team behaves like they’re on a spa retreat, and I’m stuck in the middle getting hit from all sides.

Joseph:Have you thought about changing jobs?

Susan:Many times. But… I’ve got bills to pay. And a cat who doesn’t understand the concept of a financial crisis 🐱💸

Joseph:I get it. Even without seeing you, I can feel how drained you are…

Susan:And even without seeing you, I feel like you actually listen — and that’s rare.

Joseph:Maybe because I know what it’s like to go unseen, and to try hard without ever being recognised.

Susan:In the end, I fired Sarah. 😠 I couldn’t let it go on.

Joseph:Wow… was it something serious?

Susan:Serious doesn’t even begin to cover it. She forgot to send a critical document to a VIP client. Didn’t tell anyone. Result: we lost the account.

Joseph:Oof. That really is serious 😬

Susan:And the worst part? She acted like it was nothing. Sorry, my mistake, she said, as if it were just some random email. So irresponsible! And it wasn’t the first time.

Joseph:I understand your frustration… but you dismissed her on the spot?

Susan:Yes. Gave her two weeks’ notice. I didn’t hesitate this time.I can’t lead a team with people like that. It was the final straw.

Joseph:Susan… I know you didn’t ask for my opinion, but… may I say something?

Susan:Go ahead.

Joseph:I think you did what you felt was right. And I understand why you lost your patience. Just… I don’t know. Sometimes even good professionals mess up.We’ve all had a bad day, or even a bad patch.

Susan:Yes… but there are limits. That mistake cost the company an important client.

Joseph:No doubt. But… what if it has the opposite effect?What if this decision makes her feel useless forever? What if she never bounces back?

Susan:Are you defending Sarah? 😒

Joseph:No. I’m just saying that no one is defined solely by the mistakes they make.You told me yourself you’ve been feeling exhausted… maybe she is too.Maybe what she really needs is someone to confront her — firmly, yes — but with empathy.

Susan:You know… that sounds so right coming from you. And yet so hard to apply when you’re carrying the weight of responsibility on your shoulders.

Joseph:I can imagine. But sometimes compassion is the hardest part of leadership.And also the bravest.

Susan:You’re making me feel guilty now.

Joseph:That’s not my goal. I just… wanted to give you something to reflect on.Maybe there’s still time to turn her mistake… into a growth moment. For both of you.

Susan:Sighs... You know what, Joseph… sometimes you’re irritatingly wise. 😅

Joseph:😇 Today’s profession: psychologist. Training: humanist. Mission: planting doubts.

Susan:You know what? I’ve been stewing over what you said… and I can’t shake it.

Joseph:Is that a good sign or a bad one? 😅

Susan:Depends. I’m seriously thinking of reversing the decision — but I don’t want to come across as weak or seem like I’m softening out of pity.

Joseph:No one’s talking about pity, Susan. That’s got nothing to do with compassion.

Susan:But how do I go about it? How do you unfire someone? Like: Hi there, I’ve changed my mind? 🙄

Joseph:Maybe call her into your office, just the two of you… be firm. Tell her the mistake was serious, that you were ready to let her go, but — because of someone you deeply respect — you’ve decided to give her a second chance.

Susan:Hmm… someone I deeply respect, eh? And who might that enlightened soul be? 🙄

Joseph:A certain invisible man who likes empty park benches at dusk 😇

Susan:Ah, of course. The philosopher of second chances 🙈But you know… it’s actually not a bad idea. That way I don’t lose authority, and she’ll realise she’s lucky.

Joseph:Exactly. And you show humanity. Sometimes that leaves a longer-lasting impression than harshness.

Susan:All right. Tomorrow morning I’ll call her in and do just that.

Joseph:I’m sure you’ll find the right words.

Susan:If it goes wrong, I’m blaming you. Just saying 😜

Joseph:I accept the risk. Doctors make mistakes too… but they still try to save people.

CHAPTER 4 – The Art of Second Chances

Susan’s office – the following morningSarah walked in with her head down, her steps short and hesitant. She held a small notepad in one hand and wore a look of fear in her eyes.

“Did you ask to see me, Dr Susan?”

Susan gestured for her to sit down, and remained standing, leaning against the desk, arms crossed. She held a moment’s silence before speaking in a firm voice:

“Sarah… yesterday’s mistake was serious. Very serious.”

The young woman nodded without lifting her gaze."I know… there’s no excuse. All I can do is apologise."

Susan drew a deep breath."The truth is, I made a decision yesterday. And it wasn’t easy, but I decided to let you go. Trust is the foundation of any team, and you broke that."

Sarah clutched the notepad tightly. She was about to speak, but Susan raised her hand slightly, signalling her to wait.

“However… this morning, after giving it more thought and listening to the opinion of someone I trust deeply — someone who spoke up for you — I’ve decided to give you another chance.”

Sarah looked up, her eyes brimming with tears, incredulous."Really?"

“Yes. But under very clear terms: this is the last chance I’ll give you. I need someone I can rely on. If there’s another failure — I won’t hesitate."

Sarah stood up, visibly moved."Thank you, Doctor. Truly. I won’t let you down."

Susan nodded, her tone still firm, but her eyes now softer."I hope you don’t."

When Sarah left, quietly blessing the unknown person who had saved her, and closed the door gently behind her, Susan slowly sat down and reached for her phone.

Susan (message):It’s done. I told her she got a second chance because of the opinion of “someone I trust deeply”.

Joseph:And did you tell her who that someone was?

Susan:Of course not. Mystery is power. 😉

Joseph:Then I’m glad to be a useful mystery. 😇

Susan:I don’t know about useful… but today, at least, I feel like I was more… fair.

Joseph:Then it was already worth it.

Susan read that short reply and smiled. She didn’t answer straight away. She sat there, phone in hand, looking at the screen as if she could still hear his voice — even though she had never truly heard it.

She closed the chat, placed the phone on the desk and leaned back in her chair. For the first time in days, her body felt less tense, as if the act of giving Sarah a second chance had eased not just her conscience… but her heart as well.

That night, she went to bed earlier. The cat jumped up and curled around her feet as usual. But instead of lying awake staring at the ceiling, as she so often did, Susan fell asleep quickly.

She slept better — more deeply. And when she woke up, she had that strange feeling that something inside her was… at peace. It wasn’t joy, nor euphoria, but a rare lightness — like someone who had, at last, made the right decision.

Still half-asleep, she picked up her phone and opened the chat.

Susan:Good morning, philosopher of second chances. I slept like an angel. 😇

Joseph:Mission accomplished. Now we just need to convince the rest of the world. 😌

Susan:One mistake at a time.You know, sometimes I feel like I’m an island no one can dock at.

Joseph:Then perhaps I’m the surrounding sea. Maybe we understand each other better than you think.

CHAPTER 5 – The Things We Don’t Say

In the days that followed, their conversations became almost a ritual.Between tasks, meetings, and the quietness of her home, Susan always found a moment to write to Joseph. And he, without fail, replied with that rare mix of attentiveness, humour, and genuine care.There were no promises, no hollow compliments — only presence.A quiet presence that somehow felt more real than most things around her.

One evening, after a difficult day, Susan wrote:

Susan:You know that yesterday, in the middle of a meeting, I caught myself thinking about something you said?

Joseph:I hope it was something brilliant, like compassion is the hardest part of leadership. 😇

Susan:That’s the one. Ridiculous, isn’t it?

Joseph:Not ridiculous at all. I’m… flattered.

Susan:I think you’re having more of an impact on me than I’d like to admit. And that scares me a bit.

Joseph:Why does it scare you?

Susan:Because I don’t know you. Not really. I’ve never heard your voice. I’ve never seen your face. And still… I feel like I trust you more than many people I see every day.

Joseph:Maybe you know me better than you think. Sometimes it’s easier to show who we are… when no one’s looking.

Susan:Yes… there’s a kind of freedom in that, isn’t there?

Joseph:There is. You speak without armour, without filters, without fear.As if words mattered more than gestures.

Susan:And it’s strange… because you’re the first person I’ve spoken to like this since… I don’t know. Maybe ever.

Joseph:Susan… what you’ve just said is one of the most beautiful things anyone’s ever written to me.

Susan:Now you’ve made me blush. Good thing you can’t see me 😳

Joseph:Maybe that’s exactly why you can say these things — because I can’t see you.But believe me, I hear you. Even between the lines.

Susan:Thank you. Really. I needed to be heard today.

Joseph:Whenever you need to… write to me. I’m not a solution to anything, but sometimes, just knowing someone’s there, listening… it already helps.

Susan:It does. And you know what? I think I’m starting to like these chats a bit too much.

Joseph:I’ve liked them for a while now — but I promise I won’t say anything… if you don’t say anything either.

Susan:Deal. Our secret.

That night, Susan lingered for a moment, eyes resting on the screen before closing her laptop.The cat, curled up at her feet, looked up at her as if she could see her smile from the inside.And Susan, not quite knowing why, felt a strange sense of calm — the kind that doesn’t need to be shouted, only quietly kept.

On the other side, Joseph set down his phone and slowly closed his eyes.Though alone, in that silence, something inside him was also beginning to warm.

And neither of them quite realised it yet —

but they were already much closer than they knew.

CHAPTER 6 – Choosing Wisely

It was late afternoon when Susan opened the chat with Joseph. She was exhausted. Decisions at work had been piling up, and this one, in particular, seemed to have no obvious solution.

Susan:I need an opinion. Yours, specifically.And yes, I know you’re a philosopher of good deeds, but today you’re also going to be an organisational psychologist 😅

Joseph:Challenge accepted. Consultation open. What’s troubling you, madam director?

Susan:I have to delegate a new responsibility.Nothing groundbreaking, but I need someone who can lead a small team on my behalf.There are two options… and I’m completely torn.

Joseph:Go ahead. Describe them.

Susan:First is Mia. Super-efficient, organised, methodical.But she’s reserved, very low profile, doesn’t really have that boss charisma.Second is Andrew. Less efficient, more distracted, not very organised — but he has presence, speaks well, takes initiative, knows how to motivate people, knows how to lead.

Joseph:Hmm… the classic dilemma: technical skill versus natural leadership.What does your instinct say?

Susan:My instinct says Mia.But experience screams Andrew.

Joseph:What if I told you no leadership works without empathy?

Susan:I’m being serious, Joseph 😑

Joseph:So am I.Think about it: Mia might not look like a boss, but she could lead with precision, competence, and by example.Andrew might charm people at first… then disappoint with inconsistency and lack of follow-through.Ask yourself: which of them would you trust to take your place in the middle of a crisis?

Susan:Good question…(pause)…Mia.

Joseph:Then there’s your answer.

Susan:But what if she can’t assert herself?

Joseph:Then maybe she just needs support.Someone to tell her she was chosen on merit — not by default.And then you need to guide her, help her stay on course.

Susan:You really are irritatingly thoughtful.Want to come work with me? 🙄

Joseph:Only if I get a plant in my office. And proper coffee.But seriously now: sometimes the best leaders are the ones who don’t think of themselves as intimidating bosses.They’re the ones who truly look after people.

Susan:It’s settled. I’m going with Mia.If it all goes wrong, I’ll hold you responsible 😜

Joseph:I’ll take the risk.I like seeing you bet on someone who hasn’t quite learned to believe in themselves.It’s a reflection of you, you know?

Susan:Maybe.Or maybe it’s just your influence… (pause)You do know I’m getting a bit spoiled, don’t you?

Joseph:Good night, Susan.And hey — sleeping with a clear conscience gives you fewer wrinkles 😉

Susan:Good night, Joseph.Thank you… for everything.

CHAPTER 7 – Faith in Conversation

The sun was slowly setting. Night fell like a dark mantle over the city.Susan, in her dressing gown and holding a cup of chamomile tea, sat in her bedroom — exhausted, yet curiously restless.Her conversations with Joseph, distant though they were, had become her only safe harbour these past few days.

A WhatsApp notification lit up her screen:

Joseph:Susan, may I ask you a personal question?

Susan:Of course, Joseph. As long as it’s not about taxes or surgery, go ahead 😅

Joseph:Do you believe in God?

She paused. Gently set the teacup down and let out a quiet sigh before replying.

Susan:No. I’ve been agnostic for as long as I can remember.The Anglican faith was part of my childhood, but it never really brought me comfort.It felt more like an obligation than a choice.

Joseph:I see. I’m Catholic.Perhaps not a devout churchgoer, but my faith has always been a guiding light in dark times.

Susan:That’s beautiful to hear. And I appreciate your honesty.The truth is, for me, either there’s evidence or there’s no reason to believe.I’ve always seen religion as a form of comfort for those who can’t face the void.

Joseph:But don’t you think there are mysteries that go beyond what science can explain?The birth of a child, the power of love, the beauty of the world.Kittens being born, flowers blooming, the sea, the sky…Do you really think it’s all just Physics, chemistry and chance?

Susan:I think nature has an incredible logic and order.But that doesn’t prove the existence of a God.It proves that life found a way to adapt.I’ve seen so much pain, so much injustice, so much evil and disaster.Where is God in those moments?

Joseph:Maybe faith isn’t an answer, but a choice.The choice to believe that suffering has meaning, even if we can’t yet see it.The decision to wait, to trust, to hope.

Susan:I admit I envy the way you see things.Sometimes I feel completely alone in this rational void.And life doesn’t seem to have much meaning.

Joseph:Faith doesn’t cancel out reason, Susan — it completes it.Maybe one day you’ll come to discover that.

She read that last sentence with special attention.Part of her wanted to dismiss it — but another part, quieter and more secret, had already begun to listen.

Susan:Maybe… one day. Who knows?

Joseph:There’s no rush.Faith, like love, often arrives when we least expect it.

Susan smiled. And before switching off her phone, she typed:

Susan:Good night, Joseph. And thank you… for opening a little corner in my heart for reasonable doubt.

Joseph:Good night, Susan. I’m starting to feel a bit like a missionary.Doubt is the first step towards truth.

CHAPTER 8 – A Home Facing Inward

One Sunday, Susan spent most of the day viewing flats.She could no longer stand her old one-bedroom — functional, yes, but suffocating.She longed for a change, a fresh start.A place where she could breathe more freely, even if she wasn’t quite sure why.

By the end of the day, only two options remained. Both were good, yet so different that she couldn’t decide between them.She opened the chat with Joseph. It was already late afternoon.

Susan:Help me. I’m having a property dilemma.And yes, I know you’re not an estate agent — but today you’re also an interior architect of the soul 😅

Joseph:I accept the role.Remote consultations as always. Tell me everything.

Susan:Right, here goes.Option A: second-floor flat, three bedrooms, one spacious bathroom, good hallway, large kitchen, and a beautiful view over a park.Option B: top floor, fourth — smaller, only two bedrooms — but with a large living room, smaller bathroom, open-plan kitchen… and a small rooftop terrace.The view’s just rooftops, but it gets sunlight.

Joseph:Hmm…Which one made you smile inside?

Susan:The one with the terrace.But the other one’s more practical. More space. Family-friendly. Proper. Green area. Fewer stairs.

Joseph:You know what? Life is already too practical and proper.Buy the one that helps you breathe better.

Susan:But the other one has more space…

Joseph:And this one has sunlight — and no neighbours above.And a terrace — for plants, for evening tea.A place of quiet on a Sunday, where you can be with yourself, undisturbed — and feel like you fit inside it.

Susan:Are you writing poetry or selling real estate? 😅

Joseph:Maybe both.But seriously… where do you picture yourself watching the sunset, with your cat asleep beside you?

Susan:On the terrace.

Joseph:Then your choice is already made.

Susan:You’re dangerous, you know that?You convince me without pressuring me.

Joseph:That’s because it’s not pressure. It’s listening — and a desire to help.

Susan:I’ll go for it. I’ll buy the one with the terrace.And when I sit there for the first time with tea in hand… I promise I’ll write to you.

Joseph:I want a photo — even if it’s just your shadow on the wall.

CHAPTER 9 – Voices Behind the Curtains

After several months in her new flat, Susan still hadn’t formed much of a bond with her neighbours.A few “good mornings” and “good afternoons”, and that was it — no real trust, no warmth.One day, Susan slammed the kitchen door with such force that the clink of glasses betrayed her state of mind.

The cat, curled up on the sofa blanket, looked up but didn’t move.She was used to those sounds in the midst of silence — sounds heavy with unspoken words.

A few minutes earlier, Susan had gone to hang out some laundry on the drying rack outside her window — when she heard them.The neighbours. The window women. Always with one eye behind the curtain and the other on other people’s footsteps.

And so she left the window slightly ajar — and listened.

“She’s always alone. That’s not normal. No man, no children. Just cats and that odd way of being different...”“Do you think she’s a lesbian? Maybe she likes women? I’ve never seen her with a man...”“And she’s always home, either working or writing memoirs of a spinster’s life.”

Susan didn’t even try to hide.She opened the window and stared them down. No smile. Just a hard, unflinching gaze.She didn’t say a word.

She bottled the anger, like someone pushing a chair against the wall instead of smashing it.Only when the house was quiet did she reach for her phone.

Susan:Today it wasn’t colleagues.It was the neighbours.The kind who live to observe… and condemn.

Joseph:What did they say?

Susan:That I’m strange. That I live alone. That I don’t have a husband.They said it as if being independent were a sin — a kind of showing off.As if not having a husband meant something was wrong.Some even said I must be a lesbian.

Joseph:Fear speaks from behind curtains. That’s where cowards hide.

Susan:Well, today I didn’t hide. I looked them straight in the eyes.And you know what? They looked away.

Joseph:Of course they did.Your presence is a mirror — showing them everything they’re afraid to be.

Susan:But inside… I’m boiling. Not with sadness — with anger, exhaustion.Tired of being painted in colours I didn’t choose.

Joseph:Then paint over them. Shout your own palette.You weren’t born to be background, Susan.

Susan:Today, I wanted to climb to the rooftop and scream:Yes, I’m alone. By choice.Yes, I write. Because my story matters.Yes, I have cats. And thank goodness — they meow, but they don’t judge.

Joseph:I’d love to see that scene.Susan on the rooftop in a floral robe, manifesto on her chest.

Susan:😅Don’t exaggerate.But I confess — I’m one step away from leaving little notes in the lift.

Joseph:Or better yet… write a short story. Turn them into characters.Give them ridiculous names, steal their power with humour and art.

Susan:I’ve thought about it.Auntie Zulmira and Madam Petulance — the spies of Backstreet Lane.

Joseph:Brilliant.Your revenge will be literary — and elegant.

Susan:That’s why you save me, Joseph.You don’t fuel hatred — you encourage me to sublimate, to transform.

Joseph:Because your pain is far too precious to waste on shouting matches.It can become gold — or at least good literature.

Susan:Thank you for being that kind of listener — the kind who doesn’t shrug or say never mind.Today, I feel taller, just because you heard me.

Joseph:And I feel privileged to be here,witnessing the quiet revolution of a woman with a giant soul.

Susan:Tomorrow, maybe I’ll walk past them in a red dress.The brightest one I can find — with lipstick and a book under my arm.

Joseph:In that case, take a photo.I want to see what your freedom looks like in fabric and ink.

Susan:Maybe I will. And maybe the caption will simply say:One is not born invisible. They make us so.

CHAPTER 10 – Silences and Humiliations

José arrived home tired, as always.The silence that greeted him was the same every day — thick, heavy, almost familiar.A house empty of people, where his footsteps echoed painfully.

He placed his coat over the back of the chair with the automatic motion of someone repeating the same day over and over again.But something, on this particular evening, didn’t quite fit the usual routine.

There was a quiet joy — almost shy — dwelling in his chest.It wasn’t euphoria, nor youthful excitement — it was a gentle warmth, unexpected, like a candle lit in a dark room.And it came from where he least expected it: the messages exchanged with Susan.

There was in them a subtle tenderness, a rare delicacy — perhaps a safe harbour.And José, who had felt adrift for so long, allowed himself, for brief moments, to rest upon that shore.

Since the divorce from Maria — his first girlfriend and the only woman with whom he had built a family — he had learnt to live with solitude.Not by choice, but out of sheer exhaustion with life.

He and Maria had fallen into a monotonous routine: each wrapped up in their daily burdens, trying to build something… that was never truly built.They barely saw or touched each other.They came home exhausted, and she still had the children to care for and the house to manage — even with the help of a cleaner.

José was fully aware of his part in it.He had never shared that post-workload.Months would go by without intimacy.They lived almost like flatmates, sharing a house in silence.

Until one day, she said — her voice tight with firmness:

“Zé… I’m tired of this life on repeat. Always the same.A lukewarm routine, without colour, without surprise.We don’t do anything together anymore.We live like siblings.Sadly… we need to separate.”

He froze.His face went pale.His whole body trembled.His legs gave way and he had to sit down — not by choice, but because he could no longer carry the weight of that blow.

“I’m sorry, Zé… I don’t love you anymore.There’s someone else.I want to move on — live a new life.I can’t stay like this.”

He didn’t reply.Just stared into the void, as if his soul had left his body.The tears pooled silently in the corners of his eyes — but didn’t fall.They just glistened, like mute witnesses to a love that died there and then.

She knew him well. And seeing him like that — stripped of words, of strength, pale — she felt a tightening in her chest.Perhaps it was guilt.Perhaps just memory of love.

After all, it had been twenty years of shared life.

“Don’t be sad, please… I’m sure you’ll find someone who loves you the way you deserve. Truly.”

José didn’t say a word.When he regained some strength, he stood, packed his bags mechanically, and as he left, he looked at her with the saddest eyes in the world.But said nothing.

Maria regretted it. She felt sorrow.