Page 42 of Please, Forgive Me

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help smiling.

Even during the most stressful weeks at work—when the weight of my responsibilities felt like it was crushing me—she always knew how to make me laugh.

“It’s work, my friend,” I said, trying to sound casual, though a part of me couldn’t quite relax. “It’s not like I have a choice.”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced.

“Oh, sure, ‘work,’” she repeated, making air quotes before bursting into laughter. “Don’t even try that on me, Gabi. I know there’s more than just work going on between you and your ridiculously good-looking boss.”

I sighed and flopped onto the couch beside her.

The truth was, no matter how much I tried to convince myself that everything was under control, there was something more complicated about my relationship with Diego—something I couldn’t quite define.

Years of working together and our constant back-and-forth had created a tension between us, a fine line separating the professional from the personal. And lately, I wasn’t sure that line even existed anymore.

“Carol…” I began, choosing my words carefully. “It’s complicated. Diego…” I paused, trying to organize my thoughts. “He’s my boss, and as much as he gets under my skin in ways I’d rather not admit, I can’t forget he’s a difficult man—controlling, cold…”

She gave me a look that said she wasn’t buying a single word.

“And also insanely sexy. Don’t forget that part.” She winked, making me laugh again.

“Sexy or not,” I said, straightening up, “Diego’s a mystery. Even after all these years working side by side, I still can’t figure him out. Sometimes he’s cold and distant, completely absorbed in work. But other times, he can be funny… even kind. And that just confuses me even more about how I actually feel.”

For once, my friend stayed quiet.

She knew when a conversation stopped being a joke and turned into something real. I hated admitting it out loud, but the truth was Diego affected me more deeply than anyone ever had.

“I just don’t know what to think about him,” I went on, more to myself than to her. “Some days I feel like he only likes to mess with me, like it’s a game and I’m just a pawn. But then there are moments when I feel like there’s something else—like he’s actually trying to… I don’t know… get closer to me.”

Carol studied me for a few seconds, clearly debating what to say.

Then, in her usual laid-back tone, she simply shrugged and said, “Maybe you should stop overthinking and just… feel. Whatever’s going on between you two, maybe you should just let it happen naturally. Don’t make it so heavy.”

I laughed, but something in her words stuck.

I’d always tried to control every aspect of my life—to stay rational, to keep my feelings in check. But with Diego, maintaining that balance was getting harder and harder.

“You’re always so practical,” I teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“Of course!” she exclaimed, grinning as she stood up and pulled me into a quick hug. “Now stop overanalyzing everything. You’re leaving tomorrow, right?”

I nodded, a small wave of anxiety running through me at the thought of the trip.

“Yeah. Tomorrow morning. Business trip, as always.”

Carolina flashed a mischievous smile.

“Right, business…” she said, drawing out the word and giving me an exaggerated wink. “But who knows—maybe this trip turns out to be a little more… interesting?”

I laughed and shook my head.

“We’ll see,” I said, smiling back at her. “And I’ll try to take your advice—let things happen naturally.”

She hugged me tight before leaving, and when the apartment door closed behind her, I was alone again—with nothing but my thoughts for company.

DIEGO BITTENCOURT

The low hum of the jet engines filled the cabin, a steady soundtrack as we flew toward São Paulo.