Three months into their relationship, they'd established a rhythm—weekend visits, midweek calls, stolen moments whenever Camila's demanding schedule allowed. Lívia had graduated from her architecture program and was working as a junior designer at a small firm, while Camila navigated a particularly complex merger case that consumed most of her time.
Tonight was special—Camila was meeting Lívia's family for the first time. Not as "a friend," but as herself. The significance wasn't lost on either of them.
"You look nervous," Lívia observed as they stood outside her parents' apartment building.
"I haven't met a partner's parents in fifteen years," Camila admitted, adjusting her blouse. "And never under these circumstances."
"They'll love you," Lívia said, though she didn't sound entirely convinced.
Dona Marta greeted them at the door with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Camila, welcome. It's lovely to finally meet you."
"The pleasure is all mine," Camila replied, accepting the brief hug.
Dinner was a study in contrasts—Lívia's father was warm and welcoming, her mother was carefully polite. The conversation flowed easily enough at first—work, São Paulo, mutual acquaintances. Then Dona Marta changed direction.
"Lívia tells me you're a lawyer," she said, passing the rice. "That must be demanding work."
"It has its moments," Camila replied diplomatically.
"And you're... forty-one, correct?"
Lívia tensed beside her. "Mãe..."
"I'm just curious," Dona Marta said smoothly. "It's quite an age difference."
Camila's smile remained fixed. "Age is just one aspect of who we are as people."
"But an important one," Dona Marta persisted. "At Lívia's age, I was already married with two children. I worry that she's missing out on... certain experiences."
The subtext was clear: certain experiences with men, certain experiences appropriate to her age.
"I think Lívia is very capable of determining what experiences she wants to pursue," Camila said, her voice dangerously even. "And with whom."
Dona Marta's expression tightened. "Of course. I just want what's best for my daughter."
"As do I," Camila replied, meeting her eyes without flinching.
The remainder of the dinner passed in tense politeness. As they left, Dona Marta pulled Lívia aside for a quiet word Camila could hear but didn't need to. Lívia's shoulders were tight when she rejoined Camila at the elevator.
"I'm sorry," she said as the doors closed.
"You have nothing to apologize for," Camila replied, though her heart felt heavy. "Your mother loves you. She's just... scared."
"Of what? That I'll be happy?"
"That your happiness won't look like hers," Camila said gently. "It's a common parental fear."
Lívia leaned against her. "It's exhausting, isn't it? Constantly having to defend something that should be simple."
"Sometimes," Camila agreed. "But worth it."
The elevator doors opened to the ground floor. As they stepped into the cool night air, Lívia stopped, pulling Camila into the shadowed alcove near the building's entrance.
"Hey," she said softly, framing Camila's face with her hands. "That was intense in there. Thank you for... being you."
Camila covered one of Lívia's hands with her own. "I meant what I said. It's worth it."
Lívia leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Camila's lips. "I know my mother's disapproval hangs over everything. But it doesn't change how I feel about you."
The kiss deepened, Lívia's tongue tracing Camila's bottom lip before sliding inside. For a moment, the world narrowed to this—Lívia's warm mouth, the scent of her perfume, the way she tasted of coffee and mint and something uniquely herself. Camila's hands settled on Lívia's waist, pulling her closer despite their public location.
When they finally parted, both were slightly breathless. "We should go," Camila murmured, though she made no move to step away.
"Five more minutes," Lívia whispered, kissing her again—deeper this time, with an edge of desperation that spoke to the stress of the evening. Camila responded in kind, her fingers tangling in Lívia's hair, tilting her head to deepen the angle of the kiss.
A car horn blared nearby, breaking the spell. They pulled apart slowly, foreheads resting together.
"Come home with me," Lívia whispered. "Please."
Camila hesitated for a moment there. "Sure, why not."