The week following the "plank" message was one of the most productive of Camila's career. The clarity of purpose she felt regarding her personal life seemed to bleed into her professional one. She was sharper in meetings, more incisive in her legal arguments. Her partners noticed. "Whatever you're doing, keep doing it," her senior partner, Ricardo, told her after a successful negotiation. "You're unstoppable."
But the new focus also brought a new kind of stress. The project she was leading—a complex international merger between a Brazilian tech giant and a German firm—was entering its most critical phase. It required an all-consuming level of attention, the very thing that had defined her life before Lívia.
The conflict came to a head on a Wednesday. Her phone buzzed with a message from Lívia: a photo of the stunning azulejo tiles she was studying for her project. Below it, she'd written: "Thinking of you. Can't wait to show you these in person."
Camila smiled, a warmth spreading through her chest. She was about to type a reply when her assistant knocked on the door. "Camila, sorry to interrupt. The Frankfurt team is on the line. They need clarification on the anti-trust clauses, like, now."
For a split second, Camila felt a flash of irritation. A desperate desire to ignore the call, to focus on the message from the woman she loved, the woman who was building a bridge for them. But the lawyer in her, the one who had spent two decades building her career, took over. The deal was too important. The stakes were too high.
"Tell them I'm right here," she said to her assistant, her voice all business. She typed a quick reply to Lívia: "Incredible. Can't talk now, swamped. Call you tonight."
The call with Frankfurt took three hours. By the time she was done, the office was empty and the city lights were twinkling below. She felt a familiar, gnawing guilt. This was the life she had chosen, the life that had almost cost her Lívia once.
She called Lívia that night, but the conversation was stilted. Lívia was tired, and Camila was mentally drained, her brain still buzzing with legal jargon. The spark from their previous call was gone.
"I'm sorry," Camila said, her voice heavy with frustration. "I hate this. I hate that my job is... this."
"It's your job, Camila. It's part of who you are," Lívia said, her voice gentle.
"But what if it's a part that doesn't fit anymore?" Camila countered. "What if the only way to build this future is to walk away from the life I've built?"
The question hung in the air, heavy and terrifying. She had never considered it before. Her career wasn't just a job; it was her identity. It was the source of her success, her independence, her self-worth. To question it was to question herself.
"Don't make any rash decisions," Lívia cautioned, echoing Inês's advice. "That's the castle again. Let's just focus on the next plank. My final presentation is in two weeks. I know it's a long shot, but... is there any world where you could be here for it?"
The request was simple, but the logistics were a nightmare. It was the week before the merger was set to close. It was impossible.
And yet, as she lay in bed that night, Camila found herself not running legal scenarios in her head, but searching for loopholes. Could she push the closing? Could she fly to Lisbon for 36 hours? Could she delegate? The old Camila would have dismissed the idea as unprofessional, impossible. The new Camila, the one with a bridge to build, saw it not as an impossibility, but as a problem to be solved.