As if it were the first time. Aline Segato

1

The iron gate of Saquarema creaked slowly as it opened, and Aline took a deep breath before crossing it. The air there was lighter, smelling of the sea, wind, and something that always mixed nervousness and hope. Aline knew that smell from her youth, from the under-18 categories, from the time she still dreamed of what was now a reality: wearing the jersey of the Brazilian senior national team.But at that moment, she didn't feel fulfilled. She felt... exposed. As if each step inside that training center was another chance to crumble.She postponed the presentation until the last possible day. She watched her teammates' stories about the arrival, the initial training sessions, the physical evaluations. And she stayed there, locked in her own room, in her own body, fighting an anxiety she didn't dare name. When she finally decided to come, she came alone, listening to music on her headphones as if each beat muffled the memory of Marina.Now, she dragged her suitcase through that courtyard she already knew, but which seemed colder. Further away. Aline was on the list. She was a player for the National Team. But everything about her seemed forced, even the smile she'd been practicing in the mirror since getting out of the van.She already knew which room was hers. She'd memorized the number the moment they sent the list to the CBV group, as if that would give her some sense of control. Room 49. The same number as always in the youth team call-ups. Coincidence or a twist of fate, Aline couldn't tell. But when she stopped in front of the light wood door and turned the doorknob, it was as if she'd also turned an internal key. It was there. It was now. She needed to put on her new armor.The room was illuminated by a soft light that came through the half-closed blinds. Aline took two steps inside and smiled, almost genuinely, when she saw the chaos on the bed to the left."Wow, the hurricane already passed through here," she murmured softly.She would recognize that mess from afar. A sock tossed on top of the pillowcase, an open toiletry bag with makeup and a hairbrush mixed together, the Barueri training shirt folded haphazardly at the foot of the bed. Sharing a room with Lanna was already a tradition. Back in their club days, they knew each other's tastes, schedules, and quirks. Aline could even guess what playlist her friend would put on for afternoon training just by seeing her emotional state reflected in the mess. Today, it seemed, Lanna was in high spirits.She pulled the suitcase more firmly and went to the bed on the right, which was perfectly organized: sheet stretched, towel folded, everything symmetrical. Aline let out a discreet sigh and placed the suitcase on the bed. She opened it calmly, as if each zipper demanded a decision from her. She took out the toiletry bag, separated the still-folded training uniforms, and carefully placed the casual clothes on the shelves of the metal wardrobe. Each folded piece was almost a reminder: You are here. You are part of this.She looked at the clock. It was still early. Morning practice should have already started, but she knew—from experience and from the schedules she read with obsessive attention—that she would have time to get organized before lunch. She mentally planned: the supply room to pick up the official national team uniforms, then she would go through the medical evaluations and mobility tests, as protocol dictated. In the cafeteria, she would meet the girls. Luzia, Helena, Lanna—the trio who truly knew her, or at least the way she allowed herself to be known.But now, it was time to put on the character.Aline took a deep breath, pulling the air to the depths of her lungs. When she exhaled, something inside her slid back, like a curtain closing. It was automatic, learned over the years, from disappointments, from games on and off the court. She straightened up, adjusted her hair in the mirror above the dresser, and rehearsed that smile: wide, light, mischievous. A smile that said "I'm doing great," "I'm happy to be here," "My problems? Forget about them, I don't even remember them." The smile that the coaches knew, that the girls from Barueri adored. The Aline who joked during warm-up, who gave nicknames to the physical trainers, who entered the courts as if nothing in the world weighed more than her own body.This was the Aline they expected to see. And this was the one she would deliver.But inside, a raw nerve throbbed.She grabbed the locker key, put her cell phone in her pocket, and left the room with quick, firm steps, as if she had a destination and no doubt about the way. The truth? Every step was costly. Every smile would be an effort. But she had learned to disguise herself masterfully. She had become an expert at hiding pain with affection, hurt with humor, disappointment with enthusiasm. The mask was well-fitted. And, with luck, no one would see the cracks.Aline walked down the main corridor of the dorm, her sneakers making a muffled sound on the waxed floor. The cold white light from the ceiling contrasted with the warmth of the air coming from the open windows, mixing the smell of the sea with the typical disinfectant of a sports dorm. With each step she took, she felt more immersed in the character she needed to be—and at the same time, further from the girl she wanted to hide.She turned left, passed through the glass door that led to the administrative area, and followed the corridor that led to the storeroom. The place never changed. The same white sign with faded blue letters: "Storeroom – CBV". Aline smiled to herself. If she closed her eyes, she could see herself at fifteen, sweating profusely after training with her youth team, knocking on that same door, afraid of even getting the way to ask for a pair of socks wrong.But now, she didn't knock. She pushed the door open confidently, already knowing that the sound of a radio playing traditional samba would be inside, along with Pedro's deep, impatient voice.Pedro looked up from a paper he pretended to fill out and arched an eyebrow theatrically:"Look who decided to grace us with their presence."His voice echoed in the spacious warehouse, and Aline smiled genuinely now, that smile that came from her gut, from memory, from confidence."Finally showed up, huh, kid?" "— he continued, with the familiarity of someone who had watched her grow up there. — All that was missing was for you to show up here to clock in and pick up your stuff."Aline rested her elbows on the counter and supported her chin in her hands, like a teenager returning to her base."— Well, Pedro, what do you think? That I was going to miss the chance to enjoy every last second of my day off?" she said, with a feigned offense. "— They are highly valuable."He let out a hoarse, raspy laugh that echoed deep in his throat."— You've been saying that since the under-18s. 'I'm just enjoying my day off,' 'I was going to sleep a little longer,' 'I thought it was tomorrow'—" she mimicked, pointing her finger as if listing old sins. "— But now you're playing with the adults, you see? The joke got serious.""— And I got serious too, Pedro. You see this face?" — Aline ran her hand over her chin as if displaying a sculpture. — Pure responsibility and maturity.Pedro laughed again and stood up with a slight crack in his knees. He went to the back of the storeroom, where the metal cabinets held uniforms folded with millimeter precision, separated by size, position, and category.He let out a hoarse, raspy laugh that echoed deep in his throat.— You've been saying that since the under-18s. "I'm just enjoying my time off," "I was sleeping a little longer," "I thought it was tomorrow"— he mimicked, pointing his finger as if listing old sins. — But now you're playing with the adults, you see? The game has become serious.— And I got serious too, Pedro. You see this face? — Aline ran her hand over her chin as if displaying a sculpture. — Pure responsibility and maturity.Pedro laughed again and stood up with a slight crack in his knees. She went to the back of the storeroom, where metal cabinets held uniforms folded meticulously, separated by size, position, and category.Aline observed the surroundings with attentive eyes. The smell of laundry detergent and sports equipment was the same as always. Stacked sneakers, socks organized by color, training t-shirts with the CBV (Brazilian Volleyball Confederation) emblem embroidered on the chest. It was all routine, almost sacred.Pedro returned with a small bundle in his arms. He handed her three t-shirts, two shorts, two compression tops, and a tracksuit—the typical "starter kit" everyone received in the first few days."Here are your things. Size S, as always. And before you complain: the top is new, nobody's used it. And the game uniforms will be delivered when the new supplier sends them.""You're learning, huh?" she replied, carefully taking the package."I learned from you, kid.""Okay." He stared at her for a second, more seriously.After a short pause while they stared at each other, they both burst into laughter. Their hearts were still beating faster than they should. But there, with Pedro, it was easier. He'd known her since she was just a shy, sweaty teenager with braids and braces. With him, Aline could be a little more real—or at least, a less filtered version of what she showed the world.Pedro handed her a form with a mandatory signature and waited, arms crossed."Sign here, sweetheart. Then go to the medical exam; the people in charge of physical therapy are already asking me if you ran away to Disney."Aline signed quickly and winked at him."Disney is more organized than here, you know. Nobody loses their uniform there.""Go away, girl. Go sweat, that's what you came for."She took two steps back, as if saying goodbye to a stage, and raised her hand in a theatrical gesture:"Wish me luck, storeroom. I'm going to make history.""You're already making history, kid," he said, winking.Aline left the storeroom with a calmer heart. That quick exchange with Pedro, however brief, was like a warm blanket on a cold night. The kind of everyday gesture that doesn't heal wounds, but that soothes. Makes one bearable. And, more than that, it reminded her that there were still spaces where she was seen with affection—where she didn't need to prove anything. Saquarema wouldn't be a complete nightmare after all. Even though she had to share corridors and courtyards with Marina and Júlia, there were still safe places. People like Pedro.She walked back to her room with slightly lighter steps. Changing clothes had become almost a ritual: she grabbed her training uniform, put on her shorts and the national team t-shirt with the embroidered crest, pulled her socks up to mid-calf, grabbed adhesive tape, knee pads, arm warmers, and sneakers, and threw them into her bag. She also added a water bottle, a small towel, and her cell phone. She was ready.It was time for the second act of the routine: the Medical Department.The Saquarema Medical Department had that silence typical of a small-town hospital: it wasn't an absence of sound, it was the presence of care. Aline pushed the door open with her fingertips and was immediately enveloped by a cold breeze from the central air conditioning, which made her shrug reflexively. The corridor ahead was long and too bright. It smelled of alcohol, printed paper, and, paradoxically, fresh cleanliness over old memories. How many times had she been there before? With calf pain, a stiff neck, tendinitis. But now it was different. There was no obvious pain. No injury to justify the tension in her chest. She first saw the team doctor—a calm-looking man who seemed more like a librarian than someone accustomed to dealing with high-performance bodies. He measured her blood pressure, listened to her heart with a cold stethoscope, and asked a few routine questions while scribbling notes on a thick form.Then she was sent to the nutritionist, who asked her dozens of questions in an almost maternal tone. Aline answered them all with a slight delay, as if each question needed to overcome a barrier of mental fatigue before becoming an answer. She arranged a time for breakfast, talked about her intolerances (none), preferences (lots of protein, little sweetness), and heard dietary guidelines that weren't different from those she had followed since playing in Barueri.Finally, she reached the last room in the corridor: physiotherapy.As soon as she pushed open the double frosted acrylic door, she heard the voice."Hey... are they accepting children now?" She knew immediately who it was. — I thought the selection process was stricter this year.1Aline smiled before seeing his face. She smiled because that ironic tone was unmistakable. And because, at that moment, she was an anchor.— Ha ha, you're so funny. You haven't even seen my face yet and you're already making fun of me for nothing — she replied, entering with her bag slung over her shoulder.On the other side of the room, between a shelf of elastic bands and a stretcher covered with disposable paper, was him: Fernandinho. CBV t-shirt, black shorts, sneakers worn at the edges, and his old clipboard in hand. The smile was the same as always, a crooked, slightly cynical smile at the corner of his mouth. He had been Barueri's physiotherapist for as long as she could remember, but he was also more than that. He was almost an unofficial older brother. One of those guys who lend you a shoulder and a joke in equal measure.— Do I need to see? Just sensing that aura of mess and emotional chaos, I already know it's you — he finished, pointing the clipboard at her as if it were a weapon.Aline dropped her bag near the examination table and sat down with the naturalness of someone who already knew the steps of that ritual.— Watch your language, doctor. Now I'm an athlete on the senior national team. You should treat me with more respect.— You just forgot to grow up, didn't you, baby — he retorted, already grabbing a measuring tape.She gave a light, knowing laugh.She lay on her side on the examination table, obediently raising her leg for the start of the mobility tests. Fernandinho began with her ankles, making small circular movements with his fingers while looking at the points of support on her foot, as if searching for any hidden tension."I missed you too, Fê.""Joking aside, it's good that you're here, Aline," Fernandinho said, lowering his voice for the first time since she entered. His eyes, behind his usual humor, held a sincerity that always escaped amidst the teasing. He held her ankle more firmly, maintaining the movement, but now with doubled attention."When I saw your name on the list, I was truly happy. Really. I even swore with joy, can you believe it?"Aline didn't answer immediately. She looked at the ceiling of the room, where the uneven plaster cast small shadows in the fluorescent light. She felt a warmth building in her chest—not the warmth of shame, but a kind of silent gratitude, that feeling you keep to yourself because you don't quite know how to reciprocate."Seriously," he continued, moving his fingers again in the arch of her foot. "There are people we root for more. And you're one of them. Because I know what you've been through. I know how you get here. And I know, Aline, how much you struggle to stay whole when no one's watching."She swallowed hard. Her eyes still fixed on the ceiling, but her jaw clenched."You always joke, Fê... but you know things, right?" she whispered, her voice lower than she wanted."Of course I know. Who do you think you're fooling, you idiot?" He paused for a second and gently squeezed her ankle. "But that's exactly it. You come here, grab your things, laugh, train like you're immortal. I see it. I always have."She turned her face to the side, meeting his gaze. And there, without needing to say much, he thanked her."Thanks, Fê."He nodded with a half-smile and went back to work, now measuring her knee flexion."Now there's only one thing left to make it perfect.""What?" she asked suspiciously."To see if you followed the glute workouts I gave you during these weeks off correctly." "Because, my dear... if you haven't, I'll shove you into Thiagão's room and he'll leave you walking like a penguin until Friday."Aline let out a muffled laugh, shaking her shoulders on the examination table."See? I knew that was your concern. Don't even pretend it's for my health, you scoundrel.""It's not," he retorted, with the utmost cynicism. "It's for aesthetics. The national team has to sell an image. And you're a showcase, whether you like it or not."— Ah, so now I'm marketing? — Aline propped herself up on one elbow, raising an eyebrow. — And to think that years ago you agreed when Luzia said I was as ugly as a scythe fight.3— And I still agree. But now it's elite ugly — he retorted, winking. — Go on, lie down, let's finish this quickly.She obeyed, but with a wider smile. A smile of someone who had rediscovered one of the few pieces of firm ground in that turbulent sea of ​​expectations and poorly healed memories. Fernandinho's presence, with his irreverence and frankness, was like an anchor point in the chaos. A living reminder that there were still those who saw Aline from the inside out. And that, even under all the layers of performance and control, there was still room for a sincere look.The physiotherapist continued the tests with practical efficiency, asking pointed questions about training, pain, and diet. When he noticed the stiffness in her shoulders, he switched from the equipment to a brief massage with firm, almost fraternal movements. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. The tension was there, evident, accumulated in her trapezius and shoulder blades, and he knew—from the touch, from years of knowing each other, from the lack of immediate response—that it wasn't muscular. It was emotional. It was the weight of everything she didn't say.When he finished, he cleaned his hands with alcohol, handed her a release form, and said, more seriously:"Take care of your head, okay? Here we take care of the body, but you know that the part that weighs the most doesn't have any muscle."Aline nodded. And, before leaving, she turned slightly to him:"If I... need to talk to someone... without everyone knowing... can I come here?"Fernandinho didn't answer with words. He just opened his arms and pointed to himself, making a face that said: "Who else do you see here?"She smiled. That small, silent, sincere smile.Then, she left the room with the feeling that she had been hugged without being touched.The day still promised to be long. She would still have to have lunch, meet Lanna again, give that famous "general hello" in the cafeteria, start training. She would still have to deal with the presences that hurt, with the stares, the whispers, the records that would come when she crossed the lenses of the CBV photographers.But something in her had changed.As if, in the middle of the storm, she had found an old umbrella and the Heavy... but still functional.At that moment, Aline understood: the weight she carried might not disappear. But there were hands—small, discreet, silent—that offered to hold it with her. And that, just that, was enough to go to the afternoon training session with her head held a little higher.•••The corridor that provided a shortcut from the dormitories to the cafeteria was more beautiful than Aline remembered. The new gray porcelain floor reflected the white light from the LED panels embedded in the ceiling, and the walls now had backlit panels that told the story of Brazilian volleyball—old photographs, emblematic medals, pictures of striking uniforms, and famous quotes from generations she grew up admiring. It was almost like walking through a time tunnel. A space designed to remind everyone who passed through there of the weight of wearing that jersey, of the living heritage that pulsed between each training session, each game, each drop of sweat shed at the training center.Aline walked slowly, her eyes scanning every detail of the renovation. The 2008 display with photos of the gold medal in Beijing. The torn uniform from a Superliga semifinal, displayed like a trophy. A sticker with Jaqueline's silhouette in a headline, and another with Gabi at the peak of an attack. It reminded her why she was there. Why she had never been able to distance herself from volleyball, even when her heart had been crushed by life outside the courts.She was so immersed in that temple-like corridor that she didn't even notice the court door opening right ahead. And she didn't have time to react before she heard the excited voice:"I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!" Helena shouted, running.Aline was so startled that she almost dropped her water bottle. She took a step back, her eyes widened—and then, when she saw who it was, she frowned reflexively."You idiot!" "— she exclaimed, lightly slapping her friend's arm. — You want to give me a heart attack, damn it?But Helena just laughed, her eyes shining. She wasn't the type to apologize — and Aline hadn't expected that. Because right after, without another word, they threw themselves into each other's arms in a tight hug, suffocated by longing.— You disappeared, Hel... it's been too long! — Aline murmured against her friend's shoulder, smelling the scent of sweat mixed with sweet, familiar perfume, like home.It had been a long time. A very long time. They hadn't seen each other since that game before the Superliga playoffs, when they were on opposite sides of the net.When she pulled away, her eyes landed on Luzia and Lanna approaching with wide smiles. Unlike Helena, she had seen them much more recently — they were from the same club. They had spent the whole season together, faced each other in training, had lunch together, laughed, cried.— Well, I wasn't missing you two that much anymore — she joked, looking at Luzia theatrically. — What's this, Lu, your skin is even glowing. What's going on, huh?— Did you see, miss? It's the "girlfriend" effect. You see Bergmann every day, you even have a glow on your face! — Lanna didn't miss the opportunity.3The four burst into laughter, the sound echoing in the hallway as if they were in a teenage dormitory and not in the center of excellence of national sport.Aline then turned to Lanna, with a look of unforgiving intent.— Now... you messy girl. I went to the room and saw the mess you left there. I thought a hurricane had passed through, not a power plant.— Oh, here we go... — Lanna raised her hands, laughing. — You've been there for less than two hours and you've already started being annoying. I haven't even seen the room yet, Luzia threw my backpack on the bed.— Oh, sure, sure, — Aline replied, making a cynical face. — It's Luzia's fault, isn't it? It always is.As she said this, reflexively, Aline looked over her friend's shoulder. The gym door was still ajar, and the morning workout apparently hadn't completely finished yet. Inside, under the bright light of the main courts, two figures caught her attention like a punch to the gut.Julia and Marina.They were embracing, right in the middle of the court, as if the world around them had faded into the background. Marina had her arms around her girlfriend's waist, kissing her lips with that lightness that only comes with everyday love — without shame, without haste, stealing little kisses like someone collecting small treasures.9Aline stopped.The smile was still on her face. She was still talking to her friends. She was still laughing. But inside... inside everything collapsed.The image was beautiful. Clear. Irritatingly romantic. And also brutal.Because Aline's heart, which she thought had become somewhat dormant when it came to Marina, pounded as if it were about to explode. A sharp pang, a silent collision between past and present. She still affected her. Still too much. Still like a fire hidden under cold ashes.Seeing her like that, so light, so surrendered in Júlia's arms, was like seeing laid bare what had never been entirely hers. Envy burned. Sadness deepened. It was a reflex, her eyes burning with the awareness that Júlia had won that contest without even knowing there was one.But Aline couldn't let it show.So she held back a smile. She laughed even louder at some joke she hadn't even heard properly. She responded to anything with a quick irony. And she didn't take her eyes off the court until the two inside moved away from each other and disappeared behind the dividing curtain."Let's go, shall we?" she said firmly, shrugging her shoulders as if brushing away dust. "I'm hungry. And you know I'm unbearable when I'm hungry."Helena put her arm around her shoulders, not noticing anything."You're already unbearable when you're fed. Imagine when you're hungry."The others laughed. Aline did too.And they continued walking.No one noticed the almost imperceptible tremor that took over Aline's fingers. No one saw the emptiness that settled behind her eyes, like a dark room in a newly renovated building.She was good at it. Always had been.Good at hiding the pain behind her charisma.Good at staying standing when everything inside her crumbled.Good at pretending that the scene inside hadn't hurt her.But the truth is, it did.More than it should have.More than she was willing to admit.More than that smile let on.The training center's cafeteria always felt like home to Aline. Even after years away, the smell of freshly cooked rice, seasoned beans, and roast beef enveloped her like a mother's hug. The spacious room, with light wood tables and blue chairs—the colors of the national team—was lively. Male and female athletes were scattered in groups, water bottles and sports drinks on the tables, loud laughter and technical conversations mingling in the air.Aline entered the group, still with that forced smile on her lips, but her eyes were already scanning the room like a radar. Unintentionally, without admitting it, searching for her."Look who's back!" A deep voice echoed from a nearby table. It was Bruninho, raising his hand in greeting.Aline waved back, relaxing a little. Some male athletes stood up to greet her—Lucão, William, even Bernardinho stopped to hug her. It was comforting. A reminder that, even after everything, she still belonged there."I'm going to get my lunch before they finish the best," she said, disentangling herself from her friends with a pat on Helena's back.The buffet was overflowing. Fluffy white rice, hearty black beans, grilled chicken fillet, salmon with a herb crust, fresh salads, and even a pot of garlic and oil pasta—Aline's favorite dish since her youth team days. She filled her plate with a little of everything, except the salmon. Marina loves salmon. The thought invaded her mind like an intruder, and she frowned, grabbing an extra portion of pasta to compensate.When she returned to the table, she was already more cheerful. Luzia, however, remained empty-handed, just drinking water with a silly smile on her face."Where's your lunch, Lu?" Aline asked, sitting down and spearing a piece of chicken with her fork."I'm waiting for my redhead," Luzia replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world."My redhead? How gay," Aline rolled her eyes, but smiled. "You two are worse than a soap opera couple. Can't you even eat lunch separately?""Nope," Luzia replied proudly. "She always steals my food, so I let her get her plate first to see if she controls herself."— Spoiler: she can't control herself — Lanna interjected, laughing.— Never — Luzia agreed, laughing too.The jokes continued, and Aline let herself be carried away by the lightness of the moment. It was good to be there. It was good to laugh at someone else's passion as if her own heart wasn't in pieces.Until the cafeteria door opened again.And Marina entered.Not alone, of course. Julia was beside her, as always, and Bergmann a step behind, chatting animatedly. But Aline only saw her.Marina was relaxed, her hair tied in a messy ponytail, her workout t-shirt slightly sweaty and still clinging to her body. She was laughing at something Julia had said, her eyes shining in a way Aline knew so well.And then, as if feeling the weight of the gaze on her, Marina raised her eyes.And their eyes met.It was a second. Just a second. But Aline felt as if time slowed down. Her breath caught, her fingers tightening around the fork as if she needed to cling to something.Marina hesitated. A microsecond of surprise, perhaps even recognition. And then, almost imperceptibly, she nodded. A small, neutral, professional gesture.6Aline should have reciprocated. A nod back, a minimal smile, anything to show she was okay. That she didn't care.But she couldn't.1Instead, she turned her face so abruptly that Lanna found it strange."Is everything alright?" her friend asked softly."Everything's great," Aline replied, forcing a smile.Laughter. — I just remembered that I hate when pasta gets cold.Lie.The pasta was perfect.The problem was that Marina was too.1And Aline didn't know what to do with this pain anymore.The cafeteria remained noisy, a mosaic of voices and laughter mingling with the clinking of cutlery and glasses. Aline managed to distract herself, even if only for a short time, thanks to her friends. Jheovana arrived with that contagious energy, telling hilarious stories from recent training sessions, and for a few minutes, Aline even forgot that Marina was in the same room.But it was impossible to completely ignore her.Luzia, after finally reuniting with Bergmann, didn't take long to leave her friends' table and join Marina's table. Aline rolled her eyes, but didn't comment. She knew the two were close—best friends, even. But it was ironic that, on the very day of her arrival, Luzia was already there, laughing with her, as if there had been no history there. As if Aline hadn't spent years avoiding precisely this scenario.1"—You're acting like a child jealous of her friend," Lanna teased, noticing Aline's fixed gaze."—Not at all," she replied quickly, spearing a piece of chicken with more force than necessary. "I'm just thinking that Luzia should be ashamed of eating so much and not gaining weight."Helena laughed, but Jheovana raised an eyebrow, as if she wasn't entirely convinced. Still, the conversation flowed, and Aline managed to stay present, responding to the jokes, laughing when she should.But on the other side of the cafeteria, someone was also watching.Marina didn't want to notice.In fact, she shouldn't notice.But it was hard not to notice.Aline was different. Not physically—she still had the same athletic posture, the same dark brown hair that she always tied up in a high bun when she was concentrating. But there was something about the way she laughed now, the way her eyes, once so open and bright, seemed more... rehearsed. As if every smile was measured, every gesture thought out.3"What are you looking at?" Júlia asked, following her girlfriend's gaze.1"Nothing." Marina blinked, as if caught off guard."Nothing?" Júlia raised an eyebrow, her tone slightly suspicious. "Because it looks like you're looking at Aline's desk.""I just..." Marina sighed, knowing there was no point in lying. "She's different.""Different how?""I don't know. More withdrawn. Before she was more...""Outgoing?" Júlia finished, her eyes narrowing.Marina felt a slight discomfort at the question."It's nothing much, Ju." I only commented because it's strange to see someone you've known for so long acting in a way that isn't like them.Julia didn't answer, but her gaze went to Luzia, who was sitting next to them, distracted by her cell phone."Luzia," Julia called, in a tone that already indicated the question was loaded. "Is Aline acting differently?""What?" Luzia looked up so quickly she almost dropped her fork."Marina's saying she seems like a different person. You, who spent the whole year with her at the club, do you know anything?"Luzia's face fell immediately."Don't even go there.""What?" Julia insisted."No," Luzia shook her head firmly. "We have an agreement. I won't talk about her to you, and I won't talk about you to her. Period.""What agreement is that?" Marina asked, now genuinely intrigued.— A promise between friends who don't want to get into trouble, — Luzia replied dryly. — A promise is a promise.Júlia opened her mouth to protest, but Bergmann intervened, placing a hand on her girlfriend's shoulder.— Leave her alone, Ju. If Luzia doesn't want to talk, there's no reason to pressure her.Marina remained silent, but her gaze returned to Aline, even unwillingly.She didn't understand.Or rather, she didn't want to understand. She expected to find the same Aline when she returned, not this Aline of now. She expected they could have the friendship they had before, when they were still at the base.4But now none of that seemed real.