Chapter 2 Where is my daughter

The heat in that city was suffocating. The air conditioner in the room only blew warm air. That day, according to the receptionist, there were no other rooms available.

After days of searching, she finally found a house to rent in Rio de Janeiro's West Zone. The rent was much cheaper than in the South Zone.

The house wasn't very big, but it seemed comfortable enough. It had only one bedroom, an open-plan kitchen, and a bathroom. Outside, there was a small porch with brown resin tiles and a narrow pebble path leading to the little wooden gate in the middle of the low wall.

That same week, Vivian received the furniture she had bought online. Nothing fancy, but enough to start rebuilding her life.

Over the months, Viviane took morning walks and sometimes went out to socialize with the neighbors. Soon, everyone knew her as the teacher from São Paulo. That helped her find some work as a private tutor.

To explain her pregnancy without a father in the picture, she told everyone her husband had died in an accident and that she had moved to Rio de Janeiro in the hope of starting over.

Everything was going as expected. During one appointment, Viviane got the news she was expecting a girl. The doctor told her that in three weeks, her daughter would be born.

That afternoon, she sat in her rocking chair reading a novel. The breeze cooled her skin. She smiled as she finished another chapter and went inside to answer the phone. It was the third time that strange number had called.

"Hello?"

"Where are you, sweetheart?"

Vivian dropped the phone as soon as she recognized the voice. She had no idea how Pietro had gotten her number. With effort, she bent down to pick up the cracked phone.

"What do you want?" she tried to sound firm.

"I just want to talk..."

"Your mistress isn't giving you enough attention?" Her voice dripped with irony.

"Don't be stupid!" he shouted.

"I want a divorce!"

"I'll find you, sweetheart."

She hung up and tried to steady her breathing. Cold sweat broke across her skin, her heart racing. She still had nightmares about the night Pietro had raped her.

"The monster won't find us," she whispered, looking at her belly. "Tomorrow, Mommy's going to the police station, and everything will be fine." She stroked her round stomach.

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Even after filing a police report, she still didn't feel safe. Pietro was a clever lawyer and would know how to slip away from any situation.

Convincing herself that he would never find out where she was, Viviane kept to her routine. She walked in the mornings and gave lessons in the afternoons.

That weekend, she decided to go shopping. Viviane wanted the fridge stocked before the first weeks of postpartum recovery.

On the way, she caught sight of a black car in her rearview mirror.

Shaking her head, she brushed off those dark thoughts and parked in the supermarket lot.

Inside, she shopped peacefully. She grabbed more diapers, wipes, alcohol, and cotton. Soon she'd have her baby in her arms, ready to enjoy the gift of motherhood.

With the bagger's help, Vivian returned to her car. She disarmed the alarm and opened the trunk to organize the groceries.

"I think I forgot my phone at the checkout."

"I'll get it for you, ma'am!"

The boy ran through the automatic doors. Distracted, Viviane didn't see the hooded figure reaching out.

"Don't try anything stupid." He slapped her ear, leaving her dizzy. "Hand over the car keys, bitch!"

The keys and wallet slipped from her hand.

"Please, calm down," she begged, exasperated.

"Give me the damn stuff!" the thief demanded.

Vivian bent down to grab her belongings when she heard the beggar's desperate scream. She tried to run, but the gunshot was the last thing she heard before plunging into darkness, her belly hitting the hard pavement of the parking lot.

Through thick clouds, she tried to reach her daughter's crib. No matter how fast she ran, she couldn't get there.

In the distance, she saw her mother cradling the baby and smiling as she wrapped her in her arms. Then, at some point, Otávia handed the infant to a tall man with a shadowed face.

"Don't give her to Pietro, Mom!" She shouted, but no one could hear her.

Vivian struggled to stop her ex-husband from approaching their daughter. Suddenly, fog filled the long corridor, keeping her from moving forward.

"I told you I'd find you," Pietro's voice echoed. "Rest in peace, sweetheart." He smiled, looking at the woman frozen in place.

At the end of the tunnel, a bright light shone over the crib where the baby cried. Fighting against the paralyzing fear, Viviane finally found the strength to move. She ran desperately, only to reach an empty crib. Little Sofia was gone.

"No!" she screamed.

Her eyelids twitched, forcing themselves open. The sounds of medical equipment and doctors' voices flooded her ears.

"She's moving, Doctor!" a woman's voice said. "Look!"

"Call her mother," answered a man's deeper voice.

Vivian's temple throbbed. With half-closed eyes, she saw blurred silhouettes around her bed.

"I want to see my daughter," she said slowly, trying to sit up. "I need to take care of my baby."

It was as if she were speaking to ghosts-no one answered. At some point, calm forced itself over her body after the prick of a needle. Vivian drifted back into sleep as the doctors examined her.

The next morning, a nurse helped Viviane out of bed and wheeled her to the bathroom. After washing up, she tried to stand, but her legs struggled to hold her. She kept asking for her daughter, but the nurse only told her to wait.

After breakfast, she turned to the news, which showed footage of Carnival in 2022 and reports about the pandemic that had swept the world.

Her trembling hands rose to her lips. She couldn't believe she had slept for more than two years away from her child.

"I'm so happy," Otávia said as she walked in.

"Is this real, Mom?" Vivian pointed to the TV on the wall.

"Sadly, that disease took millions of lives." Otávia sat in the leather chair beside the bed. "Your father died during the first wave. It was so hard to go through it all alone."

Holding back tears, Vivian stared at the images of people celebrating Carnival as if nothing had happened. Though she hadn't been close to her father, she still felt the pain of loss.

"We're in 2022?" she asked Otávia.

"Yes, darling. You were in a coma for two years. The neurologist said you're a miracle of science. Dr. Javier told me, "If you follow treatment and continue physical therapy, you'll be walking again soon."

"Where is my daughter?"

The elderly woman stroked her hand, hesitating.

"Where is Sofia, mom?" Viviane yelled.

"I don't know if that's her name," her voice trailed off in a whisper.

"Stop beating around the bush, Mom," Vivian's voice rose. "Where is my daughter?"

"Your ex-husband took her."

"No, no, no!"

Her arms flailed on the bed. Vivian ripped out the IV lines and tried to stand. With no strength to hold herself up, she collapsed onto the vinyl floor, sobbing in despair.