CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTEEN

MENTAL CONFUSION

Resigned, Clara released the chair, sat on the floor at his feet, sighed deeply, and asked:

"What do you want from me, Otávio?" She didn't look at him, gazing at the floor in front of her, and waited for the response that took a while to come, weak and low:

"I don't know."

"But you must know... you have to know!"

"But I don't know!"

They remained silent for a while. Otávio looked out the window into the backyard, his expression inscrutable and silent. She looked at the floor, disheartened, exhausted, and unsure of what to say.

"You can't fire someone because we slept together. You know that, don't you?"

He didn't respond or show any signs of responding. "You also know that even if he's not here, we can still leave in the same way!"

"I know that."

"And then?"

"And then what?"

"What do you want from me, Otávio?"

"I don't know."

"Do you want to date me? Have some kind of relationship with me?" she asked in a low voice, even though she knew what the answer would be.

"No."