Milionário Doente Contratou Uma Jovem Para Seus Últimos Dias, Mas O Que Ela Fez…. – FILME COMPLETO – YouTube
Transcripts:
Hello, fellow romantics. I’ve brought another beautiful film for you. And this one is definitely one to watch while hugging your pillow, you know? He was one of the richest men in Mexico and the doctors said he had a few months to live. She was hired to keep him company until the end. Oh, and for those who don’t know me, I’m Bia, and here I bring you the most beautiful romance films you’ll ever see.
Leave your like. Subscribe to the channel and come with me, because this story will touch your heart. The day dies slowly. over the >> those of the night. Sir, your mother called three times, she said she’s coming on Sunday and won’t accept any more excuses. >> Tell her I’m sleeping. Tell her that on Sunday, too.
Anything else, Carmen? Mr. Otávio sent word that the lady from the agency is coming tomorrow at 9 . >> What lady? >> The companion. You signed the papers last week. I signed them so he would stop talking about it, not so someone would show up here. Everything waits when it goes. You send go tomorrow. What could happen? Sometimes hope arrives without warning.
I say I have no luck. You say >> You said you were going to check the ads I sent. >> I checked, they all ask for experience, a degree, or a car. I have half a degree and a bus that’s always late. This one doesn’t ask for any of that. A patient on a farm in Tepotzotlán, they want someone to keep him company, help with his routine. Look at the salary.
>> That’s per month. >> Per month? 6-month contract. >> No one pays that for someone to keep them company. Either the patient bites, or the ad is a scam. >> Or the patient is rich enough not to know how much things cost. Mr. Paredes gave us until the end of the month and Mateus needs new glasses.
He pretends he can see the board, but I know he can’t. >> Then go tomorrow. If the man bites, you bite back. It says here you worked at a flower shop, a diner, and a nursing home. Why did you leave the nursing home? >> Because the director wanted me to leave the elderly in front of the TV all day so they wouldn’t be any trouble.
I took them out to the patio. She called that insubordination. >> I’ll be honest with you, Lucia. My brother had cancer last year. The cancer is gone. The doctors said months , but the chemotherapy weakened his heart. The doctors spoke of months. Since then, he has locked himself in here. Ravorante. >> And what do you expect me to do? So he doesn’t spend these months alone.
He fired two nurses. One cried every time she looked at him. The other talked to him like he was 5 years old. So you’re the one, >> Lucia Morais. Good morning. >> Otávio must have told you the sad version. I’ll tell you the real one. I don’t need anyone. My brother needs to feel useful.
And I’m paying so he stops feeling guilty. Do you know what I have? >> I know you are sick. Nobody told me anything more than that. >> And yet you didn’t look away from my head. People usually look away. You entered the room and waited for me to look away. I thought it would be rude to disappoint you. >> Why do you want this job? >> Because it pays well and I need the money.
If I said it was a calling, you’d know it was a lie. >> Six months. You live here from Monday to Saturday. Don’t touch my things, don’t talk to my mother about me, and don’t try to save me. Understood? Understood. The first two. >> That was a yes. Four plates in one hand , five in the a smile for the child and another night that the bus arrives late , the rent arrives first.
I start on Monday, I sleep there during the week, I come back on Sunday. He is very rich, the helicopter-rich kind, >> rich enough to have a garden fountain that hasn’t been turned on in years. >> Sweetie, a rich, sick man, alone in a huge house. I don’t like it. Are you going to sleep there, >> Mom? He can barely climb a staircase and he looked at me like someone looking at furniture that doesn’t match the room.
Believe me, I’m in no danger whatsoever. >> That’s not the danger I’m talking about. >> With the first paycheck, we pay Mr. Paredes. With the second, Mateus’s glasses. With the third, maybe I’ll go back to paying for college. Your father used to say you treated every wilted plant as if it were your fault. Just don’t do that with people.
You closed all the windows. >> Close that now. Let the world in. Your eyes will get used to it in a minute. Mine took two to find the table. >> You clearly didn’t understand your job. You were hired to take care of me. I wasn’t hired to stop you from dying of boredom. >> Your brother was very clear. >> I have a routine, Miss Morais.
I wake up at 10, have coffee here, read company reports. At dusk, I go to the terrace. I don’t need anyone to invent another one. >> Do you read reports for a company you say you’re leaving in a few months? I read them to ensure it keeps running when I’m gone. >> So, today you’ll be reading in the garden.
The reports won’t notice the difference. I don’t know if it’s fear. >> No, he hasn’t eaten here since his father died. And it’s been almost a year since he’s eaten well anywhere. He sends the tray back untouched. Maybe it’s because no one has sat with him. His mother tried, his ex-wife tried before she left. He’s not a man who’s easily convinced, dear.
>> You’re eating in my dining room. >> Carmen made tortilla soup. It was getting cold in the kitchen and that would be a sin. Hmm. For someone manipulation with soup in the nursing home was with pudding. It works better with old people. So it’s true. Otavio hired a girl. >> Good morning, Mother.
Today is Thursday , not Sunday. >> I come when I want to see my son. And you are >> Lucia Morais. Ma’am. And what are you ? Nurse, physical therapist, psychologist? Just a companion, ma’am. Just a companion, ma’am. >> A companion. A pretty girl, no qualifications, hired to keep a sick, rich man company.
You must understand why that worries me. >> Please, don’t start. >> I’m just saying what everyone will think, Alexandre. Someone in this family needs to think. You can think whatever you want, but he ate two spoonfuls of soup. And Carmen told me that hadn’t happened in months. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get the bread. Two spoonfuls.
You humiliated my mother in front of me. I answered your mother. That’s different. Humiliation is what she did to me. >> She is worried. She’s spent her whole life watching people approach me for money. My ex-wife, for example, waited for the first chemo cycle to realize she wasn’t born to be a caregiver. >> I’m sorry.
>> Don’t be. It was the most honest thing she did in 7 years of marriage. But that doesn’t change anything. You’re fired. >> All right. Then fire me tomorrow. Today I’m still busy. I can walk. No, I’m still rotten. >> Yes, you can walk to the end of the hall. The garden is bigger than the hall. They’re ugly. It’s different.
>> These rosebushes have been dead for two years. >> They’re ugly and dried out. See? Dead things don’t do that. >> We’ll try again tomorrow. >> You speak of tomorrow as if it were a guaranteed thing. It’s not guaranteed for anyone, but I don’t see anyone locking themselves in their room because of that.
>> You don’t sleep? >> I sleep two hours a night, sometimes three, if my heart cooperates. Lying down, I can feel it beating wrong. Sitting up, I can pretend it doesn’t. >> My mother makes orange blossom tea when someone can’t sleep. It doesn’t solve anything, but it smells good. >> Did Otávio tell you about the cancer? >> He told me you were cured.
>> I was cured. Lymphoma. Stage 3. Six cycles of chemotherapy. The doctors celebrated. My mother had a mass held. I went back to the office in a horrible wig. Three months later, I fainted in a meeting. The medicine that killed the cancer hurt my heart, one in a thousand patients.
I won the lottery twice in the same year. >> And your hair never came back? >> It started to come back. After the fainting, it stopped. It all fell out again. The doctors said it was my body choosing what to save. Apparently, I wasn’t a priority, not even to myself. >> What is that notebook you take to the terrace? >> The first cardiologist gave me six months. I do the math. Every day.
Before the sun sets, I cross out a number. It’s the only thing I still control. >> And how many are left? >> 84. 84 days is a long time to spend locked in a dark room. >> And what do you suggest? >> That you drink the tea. We’ll see about the rest tomorrow. How long has it been? That’s none of your business .
>> How long, Alexandre? Since they gave me six months. If I’m going to die anyway, I’d rather not spend the time I have left nauseous, dizzy, and dependent on a plastic box. You cross out a number every day and say it’s the only thing you control, but you’re helping the count reach zero faster. >> Maybe that’s exactly what I want.
So, let’s make a deal. You take your medicine in front of me every day and once a week you leave this house with me to a place of your choosing. >> And what do I get? >> I’ll stop opening your curtains at 8 in the morning. >> That’s not a deal, that’s blackmail . >> It’s both. Do you accept or not? >> You open the curtains at 9.
>> At 8:30. Of all the places in Mexico, you chose a boat full of drunk tourists . >> My father used to bring me here every Sunday when I was a child. He always rented the same trajinera. >> This is the Lupita. He used to say that a man who only knows five-star hotels doesn’t know his own country. >> No.
And you agreed with it? >> I was 8 years old. I wanted cotton candy, but I understood later when he died and I spent 10 years building hotels where nobody laughs like that. >> It’s my treat today. The first outing is on me. I just stay right here. >> You laughed. >> I laughed at your voice. It doesn’t matter what it was, you laughed.
>> Xochimilco. He went a year without leaving this house to visit me and this girl takes him on a tourist boat. He came back with a sunburned face, Mom. And he had dinner. Carmen told me he ate everything and asked for more bread . >> That is exactly what scares me. Do you remember Mariana? In the first few months, she also made him smile.
I know that type of woman. >> Mariana never made him eat tortilla soup in the kitchen at 3 in the morning . >> There is one more thing. Carmen found pills in a pot on the terrace. A lot of them. He hadn’t been taking his medicine for months. >> Months? Since the diagnosis, and it was Lucia who found out.
Now he takes them all in front of her. So, maybe that six-month deadline was never a real deadline. Maybe he just gave up. >> I called him every day. Every day he told me he was taking everything. >> He lied to me too. >> Hmm. >> To her, it seems like he can’t manage. >> Schedule an appointment with another cardiologist. The best one there is.
>> I already booked it. Dr. Ramirez, for next week. Hmm. 120 over 80. Better than mine. And I climb three flights of stairs every day. >> You write everything in that notebook like it’s a test. >> The new doctor will want to see it, and you will want to prove him wrong. So it’s good to have the numbers.
What is it? >> Don’t move. >> Lucia. It’s growing. >> What? Your hair. There’s a shadow here. And back here, too. The last time this happened, it all fell out three weeks later. Last time, you were throwing your medicine into a flower pot. Mr. Bragança, the exam from 6 months ago
showed an ejection fraction of 20%. That means your heart was pumping 1/5th of what it should. It was serious, and the prognosis they gave you made sense for a patient without treatment. >> And now? >> Now it’s at 28. It’s still insufficient . But it’s not the heart of a dying man . >> It’s the heart of a man who spent months without medicine, eating poorly, sleeping little, and from what your brother told me, with no desire to wake up the next day. So he can get better.
>> I’m not going to promise miracles. I will promise you there is a way, something no one told you before. And your hair has started to grow back. Chemotherapy made your hair fall out, but after that, your body was in an emergency state. Little food, little sleep, your heart working to the limit. When the body is just surviving, it doesn’t waste energy on hair.
If it’s growing now, it’s because your body decided it can afford to start living again. >> You don’t look happy. I spent months preparing to die, doctor. I organized the will, the company succession, wrote letters. I know how to do that. I don’t know if I know how to do the opposite. >> Then, start with the simplest thing.
Make small plans. The heart likes to have a reason. >> You haven’t said a word since the doctor’s office. >> I was thinking about the notebook. 84 days turned into 63. If the doctor is right, I crossed out numbers that meant nothing. >> Isn’t that good news? >> It’s the worst thing that’s happened to me since the diagnosis.
When you know you’re going to die, you don’t need to fear anything else. You don’t need to fear failure, being abandoned, or losing someone. Now he tells me I might have years. And I don’t know if I want to have hope and be deceived again by my own body. When my father died, I stopped studying landscaping.
I had a year and a half left. I told everyone it was because of money, but that wasn’t all. I was afraid of graduating and him not being there. So I gave up beforehand so I wouldn’t have to miss him that day. >> You never told me that. You never asked . What I mean is that being afraid of hope doesn’t protect anyone, it just postpones life.
>> Why landscaping? >> Because an abandoned garden still holds the garden it once was. You just need to clear away what’s on top. You are becoming vain. >> I am not. >> You spent 20 minutes looking in the mirror. >> I’m assessing the damage. And what is the diagnosis? >> It grew more on the left side. >> You look like a dog that lost a fight.
>> You look like a man who won two. Today is the day for our weekly outing. >> Did you choose? >> I did. I want to see your house. Then stay with me. >> My house isn’t a tourist attraction. >> You know my whole house, my mother, my brother, my meds, and my worst moods. I only know you have a brother who can’t see the board and a mother who sews.
I think that’s fair. >> My mother is going to die of embarrassment. The house is small, the street is noisy. And Mateus will ask you a thousand questions about helicopters. I don’t have a helicopter. >> Then he’ll be disappointed, >> but he’ll ask anyway. Look who remembered the neighborhood. >> Alexandre, this is Felipe.
We grew up together. He was the one who showed me the job opening. >> Sorry, I’m covered in grease. Nice to meet you, Mr. M. >> Lucia talks about you a lot. >> What does she actually say? That you’re the stubbornest man she’s ever met. >> Is it true you have 23 hotels? >> 26. But I don’t know them all. >> How can someone own something and not know it? That’s a very good question.
I think I’ve spent my whole life owning things I didn’t know. Lucia said you don’t eat. >> Lucia exaggerates. But I didn’t eat. It’s true. She forced me to sit in a dining room and eat soup. Now I understand where the stubbornness comes from. >> She’s just like her father. When he got sick, she spent her nights sitting by his bed, reading the newspaper to him.
>> What did he die of? >> Heart failure. It was quick. She was 20 and she was the one who found him. >> Hmm. You never told me your father died of heart failure. It wasn’t important. >> You agreed to take care of a man who has the same problem that killed your father. That is important. >> I didn’t agree because of that.
I took the job for the money. But when I saw you in that armchair crossing off days in a notebook, I saw my father in his final months. He had also given up before his body, and I did nothing because I was 15 and thought adults knew what they were doing. The mechanic Felipe, >> is he your boyfriend? >> That’s a question for a boss.
>> It’s a question for someone who got grease on his suit after a hug that wasn’t meant for him. >> Felipe taught me how to ride a bike and fought the boys who pulled my hair at school. He’s practically my brother. >> He doesn’t look at you like a sister. >> And how do you know how he looks at me? >> Let’s get to the point. Bye.
>> What are you doing? >> What are you doing? The doctor said to do light exercise. >> This is light. >> I carried vases like this for my father when I was 12. >> When you were 12, your heart was pumping at 100%. It was healthy. Without saying >> Carmen, Carmen, call the ambulance. Look at me. Breathe slowly. Look at me.
>> I’m not crying for you. >> Then for whom? >> For me. Because I don’t want to lose you. deep in the dry earth. What happened? What did you do to him, you crazy woman? I asked what happened. He was getting better and now he’s in the ICU. You let him overexert himself. He was carrying a pot when I arrived.
I yelled at him, but he doesn’t listen when he’s happy. And he was happy, ma’am. He was happy because his father’s garden finally bloomed. >> He is stable. He had an arrhythmia. His heart raced more than it could handle. He pushed himself too hard, but it also showed something I needed to see. I want to implant a defibrillator, a small device under the skin that corrects the rhythm if this happens again. It’s a simple surgery.
>> Simple >> compared to what he’s already been through, ma’am? Yes. And he asked for someone the moment he woke up, for Miss Morais. >> Go, he asked for you. I have to. And Cruz Azul lost again at home for the third time in a row, leaving the fans. >> I’ll skip football, I support América. You didn’t tell me you were awake.
You read like you’re gossiping. Is that how you used to read to your father? >> It was. He said the news sounded less sad in my voice. He was right. >> You scared me. When you fell, I thought it was my father again, that I would be too late again. You weren’t too late, you arrived screaming, which was much worse.
Lucia, in the garden you said: ” >> I know what I said.” >> Did you say it because you were scared? I said it because it’s true and I know it shouldn’t be. Because you pay me, because your mother thinks I’m an opportunist, and because my contract ends in three months. >> The contract. >> The contract. >> So don’t ask me anything else today, okay? Rest again to get up again.
I counted the days in the silence. You said we’ll come tomorrow. And without >> this, it doesn’t look like a report. >> It’s the first hotel my father built in Oaxaca, a colonial house with 30 rooms and a huge patio. It was closed 12 years ago. I signed the closure myself. >> And why are you looking at it now? >> Because I want to reopen it.
Not like the others, no marble, no spa, no lobby smelling of expensive perfume. A small place, with regional cuisine, with people who know the city. A place like Lupita’s. >> Are you making plans? >> I am. >> When would the reopening be? >> In a year and a half, maybe two. >> Two years. And the notebook? >> I stopped drawing the day I went to the hospital.
I didn’t have the heart to throw it away. I didn’t have the heart to keep going either. >> The courtyard needs bougainvillea on the walls. They handle the heat and bloom all year round. >> Hmm. Yes. Oh, you should really design this garden. >> I don’t have a degree. >> You say you aren’t trained to design the garden. Garden.
I also have no experience with this kind of hotel. Neither of us is ready. Then we’ll learn together. The driver said there are mudslides at two points on the road . Nobody leaves here until tomorrow. I heard. >> I already called Carmen. She’ll let my mother know before she sends the army. >> Why do you never come back here? The house is perfect.
Carmen has it cleaned every month. I stopped coming when I got married. Mariana thought the place was damp and isolated. Later, when we split up, I didn’t want to return alone to a place where I’d been happy. >> But today you returned. >> Today I’m not alone. >> I have a question I wanted to ask. Since the first day, >> you never asked permission for anything .
Why did you accept? In the interview, you said you didn’t need anyone. You could have sent Otávio away with me. >> Because the week before, I had written a letter to every important person in my life. My mother, Otávio, Carmen. When I finished, I realized there were only three letters. 38 years, 26 hotels , and three letters.
I thought it would be nice to have someone around at the end, even if it was someone paid to be there. >> If you wrote the letters today, how many would there be? >> Four. I close. The driver called. The road opens in an hour. So, we have one hour regarding last night.
>> The window opened. That was all. >> The window opened later. >> Alexandre, you were alone for a year, sick, locked in a house, and then someone appeared, opened the curtains, and made you eat soup. Anyone would confuse that with something else. Do you think I’m confusing gratitude with what I feel? >> I think you just came back to life and I was the first person you saw.
It’s like a bird that hatches and follows the first thing that moves. >> Did you just compare me to a duck? >> To a bird? Duck, that was you who said it. >> And are you also confusing something? He came back from the lake singing in the shower. 30 years in this house and I’ve never heard that man sing. >> He sings worse than I do.
>> No one sings worse than you, girl. The contract ends in five weeks. Have you thought about what you’re going to do ? I’m leaving, Carmen. When the contract ends, I’m gone. >> And he knows it. >> That’s what he hired me for, to accompany his final months. Those months are over. He’s not dying anymore.
And I can’t stay here collecting a salary to be, to be what? A reminder of the time when he was sick . >> You could stay without receiving any salary, and live on what? Whether I’m the poor girlfriend his mother despises , or the hired girl who got lucky. I’ve seen how people look when I get in the car with him.
One day, he’ll see it too. The nighttime ones. >> Leave them on the table. >> The deal is you take them in front of me. >> The deal ends in weeks. You can start getting used to not being here to see it. >> Did you hear me? I did. And don’t worry, I understand perfectly. You were hired for my final days. I had the impoliteness not to die.
>> That’s not it and you know it. >> Then what is it? You forced me to open the windows, to eat, to go out, to make plans. You told me that fearing hope only postpones life. And now that I have hope, you’re leaving because you’re afraid of what people will say in a car? >> It’s not just what people say.
It’s what’s true. I am paid to be here, Alexandre. Every month money lands in my account that comes from you. How will you know that I like you and not your money? How will I know that you like me and not the woman who pulled you out of that dark room? Because I know the difference. >> Two months ago you didn’t know the difference between taking medicine and throwing it in a plant.
>> You’re right. Two months ago I didn’t know anything. I was counting the days to die. Now I count the days left until you leave. And it’s much worse. This isn’t fair. Didn’t they say he was dying? They did. Seems he changed his mind. >> You look handsome, my son. You look
like your father on our wedding day. >> Happy birthday, Mom. Thank you for insisting on this party. You came? >> Your mother sent an invitation. I thought it was a trap. >> It probably is. Dance with me >> here >> in front of everyone. >> I spent a year hidden in this house, Lucia. Today I want everyone to see.
It’s been 10 years since I’ve seen him dance. >> 12. At his wedding. He danced with Mariana like someone checking off a task. And now >> she’s a companion. >> It’s >> that contract. They say she was a waitress. Smart one. Arrived at the right time. Sick man, alone, full of money. >> Wow, you dance well.
I didn’t expect that. My father taught me in our kitchen. I will be direct because I don’t know how to be any other way. Inside here is a check. It’s the value of 3 years of your salary, enough for you to finish college, pay off your mother’s house and your brother’s studies. And in exchange I leave. >> In exchange you leave before the surgery, no scene, no long goodbye.
He needs to be calm. He doesn’t need another woman who surgery? >> he didn’t tell you. >> What surgery, ma’am? >> The latest exam showed one of his heart valves is very damaged. The defibrillator doesn’t fix that. Dr. Ramires wants to operate in three weeks . Open-heart surgery. He said the chances are good, but with a heart like his, nothing is simple. Three weeks.
How long has he known about this? >> For 13 days. He told me, Otávio, and Carmen. He asked that nobody say anything to you. I thought it was because you had already spoken. >> He kissed me a week ago and he already knew. Lucia, the check. >> Keep it, ma’am. I don’t need your money to leave. >> You disappeared.
I looked for you all night. >> Three weeks. >> Who told you? Your mother. >> While she was trying to pay me to leave . She thought I already knew. Everyone in this house knew, except me. >> I was going to tell you when? On the gurney, in the surgical wing hallway. You let me kiss you, knowing you might not wake up from surgery.
You let me make plans for a garden in Arraca. >> Because I wanted those plans to be real . For the first time in a year, someone looked at me as if I had a future. If I told you, you would go back to looking at me like a patient, you’d stay out of pity, stay because you can’t forgive yourself for your father. >> So that’s what you thought of me? >> That’s not what I >> You decided for me.
Decided what I could know, what I would feel, why I would stay. My contract ends on Friday. I’m leaving on >> The surgery is three weeks away. >> Then you’ll have three weeks to learn that you don’t need to hide things from those who love you. The night meds are three. At 9 he’ll try to fool me, I know.
So watch until he swallows it and open the curtains at 8:30, even if he complains. You brought this house back to life, girl. Don’t you forget that. No one knows what comes for my here as long. You’ve counted those coins three times. >> I’m tired, Mom. You’ve been tired since
you got back, but it’s not your feet. Otavio called today. He wanted to know if you were okay. Said his brother is back to eating in his room with the curtains drawn. He lied to me, Mom. He was going to have heart surgery and hid it from me like I was a child. And your father, when he started feeling chest pains, did he tell you? He hid it from both of us for months.
He said it was just heartburn. Do you know why? Because he saw your face when you came home from school talking about the gardens you’d design, and he didn’t want to erase that. It wasn’t a lack of trust, dear. It was fear of being the sad thing in the life of someone he loved. >> I was so angry with Dad after the funeral. I was angry for a whole year.
>> I know. And now, how long are you going to be angry with this man? Until the surgery, until after it’s done. I ask you one thing and you answer without thinking. Did you leave that house because he lied, or because he got better? >> What do you mean? >> While he was dying, you knew exactly where you stood.
You were the woman who cared for him. Now he’s alive, and you don’t know who to be by his side. So you ran away before you had to find out . >> Stop it, Mom. >> You’ve been like this for a week. I spent a year watching you die in this armchair and I won’t watch it again. >> I’m taking my medication. You can ask Carmen. Okay. >> That’s not the heart I’m talking about.
It was me, Alexandre, at the party. I offered her money to leave. A lot of money. >> You did what? >> I did what I’ve always done. I protected you from anyone I thought wanted something. And she looked at that envelope as if I had spat on her. I’ve never felt so small in my life. That’s how I told her about the surgery by accident.
So, part of what happened is my fault. No, Mom, it’s my fault. I hid it because I was afraid she’d stay out of pity. >> And in the end, I did exactly what you did. I decided for her how she felt. Then go after her. >> Are you telling me to go after the caregiver you tried to buy off? I’m telling you to go after the only person who managed to make you eat in a year.
And if she agrees to come back, I will apologize to her myself. Without any witnesses, naturally. Your father would have liked her. He always said I was too difficult to be happy. She is inside, but I should warn you that she spent the week fighting with the coffee machine at the diner as if it were you.
>> Then I arrived just in time before she breaks the machine. Lucia, there is a man here with a plant. >> What are you doing here? >> The weekly outing. It’s still Sunday. Per the agreement, I choose the place. >> The contract ended, Alexandre. >> I know. That’s why I came. want. >> I hid the surgery from you because I was afraid. Not of dying.
I’ve already been afraid of that enough for a lifetime. I was afraid that you would stay out of obligation, and I made that decision alone, just as I’ve made every decision in my life, and I lost you because of it. >> You also told me that I would stay because I hadn’t forgiven myself for my father. That was cruel and unfair.
And I regretted it before I even finished the sentence. I also don’t know how to do this without paper, so I wrote a new contract. Single clause. Lucia Moraes will not be paid, will not take care of anyone, and will not be obligated to anything. She may leave whenever she wants. >> The surgery is on Thursday.
I am not asking you to be my nurse, nor to hold my hand out of pity. I am asking that you be there because you want to. And if you don’t want to, I understand. But I wanted you to know everything this time. You came all the way to the favela with bougainvillea flowers and a torn contract to tell me this in front of the whole neighborhood.
>> You said I never knew anything that was mine. I wanted to know this here, too. >> The next time you are afraid, you tell me. Even if it’s ridiculous. Even if it’s at 3 in the morning. 3 in the morning is when I’m most afraid. >> I know, I was there. If it rains tomorrow, I will remember both of us. >> Did he come by car or helicopter? >> Shut up, Mateus.
If you die, I get your watch. >> I already told Mom. >> If I die, the watch goes to Carmen. It’s in the will. You get Lupita’s debts. >> I’ll wait for you on the other side of that door. Don’t make me wait too long. >> If I don’t wake up, >> you wake up. >> Let me finish. If I don’t wake up, the notebook is in the library drawer.
There’s the Orca patio, it has your name on it. Otávio knows what to do. >> Otávio doesn’t even know where the library is. Then you’ll have to wake up to take care of it. Otávio doesn’t even know where the library is, >> so you’ll have to wake up to take care of it. >> Lúcia, fire me tomorrow. >> Today I’m still busy.
>> 6 hours. The doctor said five. With a heart like his, nothing is simple. You were the one who told me that. I owe you an apology, and I’m not good at it. In my family, we apologized by sending flowers and pretending nothing happened. With all due respect, ma’am, if you send me flowers, I’ll plant them.
I thought you wanted his money, but I was the one who wanted something. I wanted to be the person who saved my son. For a year, I called every day and he lied to me. You arrived and in a week he couldn’t lie anymore. I was jealous of you, Lúcia. That’s it. A woman my age jealous of a girl. He didn’t lie to you because he didn’t love you.
He lied because he didn’t want to see you suffer. My mother explained that to me about my father. Men of that age are very stupid when it comes to love. >> No. The valve was replaced. There was a complication in the middle. The rhythm was erratic for a few minutes, but the heart recovered on its own. He’s stubborn.
He will spend the night in the ICU. The next 48 hours are important, but what I saw in there is a heart that wants to beat. >> Uh-huh. >> Dido’s tab, and América won 2-0 with a goal in stoppage time that left the fans…You are lying. América doesn’t beat anyone. >> I made it up. I thought you would wake up faster if you got annoyed.
>> It worked. Hm. >> Sleep now. I’ll be here when you wake up. >> The notebook. >> No numbers. >> All right. As of today, no numbers. The college professor came, said she’ll bring students to see the patio next semester. She said that out of politeness.
>> She said that after taking 40 photos. >> Politeness doesn’t take 40 photos. Look at that, a gray hair. >> I’m assessing the damage. You’re getting old. >> I am. For a year I thought I wouldn’t have this privilege. >> You still look at the sunset as if you were counting it. >> No, now I look because it’s beautiful and because you like it, but I created a new rule for the sunset.
>> A rule? Before, every day, before the sun went down, I would cross out a number. Now, every day, before the sun sets, I want to ask you a question. It’s not a contract, it has no clause or end date, it’s just a question and you can answer tomorrow if you want. >> Not tomorrow. Today I’m still busy.
Today I have to say yes. Tomorrow, people, and without realizing it, between one flower and another, I started wanting to see. You used to say that a rose, even dried up, can bloom. And I, who only counted time, learned to count on you. So stay with me before the sun sets. Leave the world outside and hold my hand.
I don’t want to count the days anymore. I want to count our plans, a garden, a house, a path, and you in my tomorrow, if life gives me a thousand afternoons. So, all you romantics out there, what did you think ? She was hired to accompany him until death and ended up teaching him to want to live.
Now I want to hear from you, if you were Lucia and found out he hid the surgery, would you have left or would you have stayed by his side? Tell me here in the comments, as I read them all. And whoever watched until the end, write there: “God heals”. I want to know who made it this far with me. If this story touched your heart, leave a like, subscribe to the channel and turn on the notification bell, because many more beautiful films are coming.
A kiss and see you in the next story by Bia. Yeah.
