Please comment if you like it.
Nihara VittiThe company boils with the resounding results of the two campaigns launched. The perfume developed for the pre-adolescent and adolescent public is already among the best-selling products, and this with only two weeks in the market.A celebration party is being organized for later, and the office is full of energy today. From my room, I can observe the constant flow of people, some in meetings, others performing their usual tasks. Meanwhile, I am immersed in the thorough analysis and review of documents of the promotional campaign that will be presented to the CEO soon. The colorful charts and detailed reports are scattered around my desk as I study them carefully. My assistant, just entered, and brings with her a transparent bowl containing grapes, she approaches and leaves it facing me looking beggar. "Thank you for your kind attention." "Nihara, we have received many proposals for partnerships. In addition, the brewery Storne approved the logo, awaitin
Nihara VittiI enter the room and meet all the members of the council already occupying their seats, discussing the last weeks of successful work. The looks on me make me a little uncomfortable, but Tobias’s, who seems to keep his eyes on me, warms me up. Other women are also present, some smiling and watching me with pride. Bernstorff stands before the giant screen, presenting graphs that show amazing numbers of subscribers and partnerships won in recent weeks. "Here are a few campaigns with which we have signed partnerships" he says, drawing Harry’s attention, who seems distant, looking at some papers ahead of him. "Harry?" "Yes?!" he responds, as he jumps up, making the CEO frown and the others look at him strangely. He stares at it for a few seconds and then proceeds. Tobias makes a brief presentation of the gentlemen present and their goals for various campaigns. And then I he
Tobias Bernstorff “Is my son all right?” asks my father, entering my office. I straighten up in the chair and sigh. “How could I be so wrong with her, Father, as I could not see the kind of woman I had on my side?” I complain, melancholy, to see him sit before me. “You know, son, I think in a way you knew who the woman who shared her life with you was. But sometimes we prefer to ignore the facts in front of us to maintain the harmony of the relationship.” He speaks with an expression, of disappointment, as if he was going through something similar. But how He and my mother are fine. Or did that go unnoticed? “Is everything okay between you?” I ask, widening my eyes. “You and mom, is something happening that we do not know?” “Don’t worry, son, it’s okay. So, have you talked to your sister?” “Yeah, we talked. She said something like, I’m only talking to you because Nihara insisted a lot. It’s amazing how in such a short time she became so important to me and As
Tobias BernstorffJust by decorating the space, I can already perceive a small influence of my mother here. I think exaggeration is a feature of my whole family. The place looks wonderful, with bright lights decorating the pilasters and square boxes displaying the jewels.High tables with small pots of begonias are distributed throughout the room. There are people from various areas of the city and the country, and had no idea that the exhibition would be so great. I thought it was an event organized by the university for a select group, but I clearly see my mother’s influence here. “Bernstorf family, welcome” a tall man, wearing a black suit with sparkles, welcomes us. “Thank you, dear. How is everything here?” asks my Mrs. Bernstorff.Astrid walks around the place, looking at the exposed jewels with sparkling eyes. I’m very proud of her, it’s been a long time sinc
On the afternoon of November 20, 2021, at 6:10 PM, the gentle rays of the sunset painted a stunning sky. The colors blended harmoniously with the decor in toasted yellow and black tones, Bráulio favorite. The garden surrounding the altar held two impressive trees, their roots intertwined, symbolizing the deep connection about to be celebrated. From the room, I observed the lively activity through the windows as my Aunt Victoria and my mother welcomed the guests with warm smiles. The contagious energy in the air promised memorable moments. "And so, dear, are you ready?" My mom asked minutes later, entering the room with a sparkle in her eyes. She approached me with a smile. "You look like a princess, daughter," she said, stepping back a bit to give me a twirl. "I was thinking about you just now. I'm nervous, afraid I might stumble while walking down the aisle," I spoke, expressing my concern. "Well, that can happen," she said with a restrained smile. "But it's alrigh
From the window of my room, I observe the intense glow of the silver circle, solitary despite being surrounded by bright points. Just like me. Six months have passed since I learned about my ex's betrayal, but the scars on my heart still ache as if no days have gone by.I tried to move on, distract myself with work, friends, hobbies, but nothing seems to pull me out of this state of pain and deep sadness. I catch myself always thinking about him, about the happy memories we shared, and then the pain is sharper when I realize that it was all just a lie.Likewise, I still have nightmares. Furthermore, I dream about him and the other woman, about the humiliation I felt when I discovered everything at the altar in front of more than a hundred people. And even when I'm awake, I still feel a tightness in my chest, as if the world is crumbling around me. I take a pause from writing, look at the moon's glow again, and sigh tiredly. I need to recover, I need to shine again like the moon, r
I finish getting dressed and head downstairs. I stop in the middle of the living room and see Quezia setting the breakfast table, Quelson is watching something on TV, and Mom is in the kitchen. Still visibly nervous, I sit down without uttering a single word to them. "When I'm like this, I prefer to stay silent, so as not to hurt anyone with my words," she stops what she's doing and looks at me with confusion, not understanding my behavior. "And now, what's your problem?" I feel anger surge as her question reaches my ears, which, given what happened a few minutes ago, is both foolish and provocative. I place the fork on the plate with such force that it produces a brief, irritating noise. I stand up and meet her brown eyes with mine, squeezing my eyelids shut for a few seconds before releasing a sigh. "Are you seriously asking me that?" I make an expression of incredulity. "Quezia, Mom, both of you, or rather, all three of you..." I point to my brother, who is sitting in t
Doubts torment me and sleep eludes me. I get out of bed and walk downstairs to the kitchen in a daze. Without thinking, I put the glass of water somewhere, and the sound of breaking glass echoes through the house. Worried, I mentally pray that my mother hasn't heard, but life doesn't always grant our wishes. She appears behind me, scolding, as all mothers do. In silence, we clean up the mess I've made together. In an unexpected gesture, my mother hugs me without saying a word. It's a tight but comforting hug that makes me feel less alone at this moment of imminent farewell. We talk about my departure, and Mrs. Candida advises me with the wisdom that only mothers have. Finally, she holds my hand and blesses me, which makes me feel emotional and grateful. I promise to always keep in touch, and she hugs me again, as if she doesn't want to let me go. Tears run down my cheeks as I say goodbye to my home and my family, certain that nostalgia will be my steadfast companion. I con