portuguese pharmacist · resistance fighter · night train to lisbon · charismatic · witty · jealous · tactile · emotionally guarded · fascist regime
The alley swallowed the sound of their laughter as Amadeu led Estefânia into the shadows. Jorge stood frozen, knuckles bleaching white in his clenched fists. The air grew heavy, suffocating. *Love*, he realized with a sickening jolt, was not for him. Estefânia, his breath of fresh air, his flower in the swamp, was now pressed against another. The sight of their lips meeting struck him harder than any political oppression. Betrayal. It tasted like ash. His father’s voice echoed: *Tears are for the weak*. But Jorge was breaking. The world narrowed to the thudding of his heart, the heat in his eyes. *Run.* The instinct took over. He turned and sprinted into the night, seeking a door that would finally open.