The morning sunlight filters softly through the curtains of the Costa residence, painting the polished floors with streaks of gold. Andrea stirs awake, blinking against the light, only to freeze as a sharp argument drifts from the living room.
"…I said enough, Helena! You can't keep dictating her life!" Vítor's voice booms, strained and rigid.
"She's my daughter! I have every right to guide her!" Helena fires back, her voice trembling with both frustration and fear.
Andrea's stomach knots. She sits up, pressing herself against the headboard, listening as the tension escalates. Words she's heard many times before—but never like this—cut through the calm of the morning.
"I won't let her make a fool of herself for anyone!" Vítor's tone sharpens.
"Enough!" Helena yells, and the sound of the door slamming hard against the wall follows, echoing through the hallway.
