Morning light filtered through their shared suite's windows. Lívia woke to the sound of Camila already moving about, the clink of a mug, soft footsteps. She emerged to find Camila dressed, sipping coffee on the small balcony overlooking the valley.
"Sleep well?" Camila asked without turning.
"Better than I have in weeks," Lívia admitted, joining her. "The air here..."
"Does that." Camila passed her a steaming mug. "Your ankle?"
"Better. Sore but functional."
They stood in comfortable silence until Lívia spoke. "Can I ask you something personal?"
Camila turned slightly, giving her full attention. "You can ask."
"Why are you really here? Alone?"
Camila's expression shifted, some of the composure falling away. "Divorce. Finalized six months ago."
Lívia's breath caught. "I'm so sorry."
"Don't be." Camila stared into the distance. "Seven years together. Not an explosive or toxic ending... just it slowly fizzled out. We wanted different things."
"What did you want?"
Camila's laugh held no humor. "I thought I wanted success. Achieved it. Turns out I was wrong."
"What about now?"
"Now I'm trying to remember what matters." Camila's fingers tightened around her mug. "And you? The breakup you mentioned?"
Lívia wrapped her arms around herself. "He was... expected. The person I was supposed to marry. Nice man who loved me."
"But?"
"I couldn't love him back. Not the way he deserved." Lívia's voice dropped. "I think I like women. Never really let myself consider it before."
Camila's stillness was absolute. "Have you told anyone?"
"My mother. She thinks I'm just confused or something, like this is some phase that will just pass" Lívia shook her head. "It's not."
"No," Camila agreed softly. "It rarely is."
The air between them shifted—something deeper forming beyond mutual attraction. Understanding. Recognition.