Extra* Chapter 346: My heart and I were buried in the dust (Marcelo's Chapter)
I'll try to keep Marcelo's chapter as brief as possible—otherwise, it might get too long—but it was such an important part of my life. That said, I already wrote a book about our story. Of course, I omitted a few things and added others, which you’ll probably notice, but about 90% of it is true.
I spent many years at Escola Paulista, attending from first grade through ninth grade, completing my entire elementary and middle school education there. When I transitioned to high school, I moved to a new school called Isaac Newton, along with a friend of mine, Ana Caroline. Ana had been my classmate from fourth to sixth grade, but in seventh and eighth, she switched to a school closer to her home. Despite the change, we stayed in touch, and we both decided to start at this new school together in high school.
What I can tell you is this: from the moment I first saw Marcelo on my very first day at Isaac Newton, my heart raced, and I knew I was going to fall for him. It was crazy, really. But there was a problem—he had a girlfriend. It wasn’t a serious relationship, though; they hadn’t even been intimate. It was just one of those high school flings. Still, he was technically taken, and I tried my best to keep my distance. I couldn’t imagine someone like him—so stunning—ever being interested in me. But he was. And we fell for each other. It was impossible to think about anyone else, which, I know, was wrong. But I’ve paid the price for that, as you’ll see later.
After a lot of ups and downs, we finally started dating, and our first kiss happened at my 15th birthday party. A few weeks later, he officially asked me to be his girlfriend. That marked what I can only describe as the happiest days, weeks, and months of my life. I was completely in love for the first time, and it was amazing. I remember us staring into each other’s eyes for minutes at a time, just smiling. Our foreheads would touch, our noses brushing, lost in the pure bliss of the moment.
But as you know, passion is fleeting. Love is what endures. And Marcelo’s passion for me began to fade, even if neither of us wanted to admit it. He cared for me, I’m sure, but there were so many complications behind the scenes. I’ll get straight to the point: for Valentine’s Day in Brazil that July, I gave him a ticket to a concert he’d been dying to attend with his friends. I trusted him completely, and even though his ex-girlfriend, Camila, would also be there, I didn’t worry. Trust is the foundation of any relationship, and I believe that wholeheartedly.
But that trust backfired on me. The day after the concert, when I went to his house, he confessed that he’d cheated on me—with seven people. Four women, three men. One of those women was Camila, and she walked out of his house that very moment. I spared some of the details in the book I wrote about him. For instance, I didn’t reveal that he’d been with men. That was too personal, and I felt it wasn’t my place to expose his sexuality. Even though the book was only sold online, and I knew people who knew us were reading it, I couldn’t risk his father finding out through me. At the time I wrote the book, we’d been apart for over a year, and his father still didn’t know.
That betrayal marked the beginning of the end for us. We’d had four incredible months—March, April, May, and June—but after that, everything fell apart. Marcelo and his twin brother began questioning their sexualities, which became the talk of our entire school. I was only 15, completely unprepared to deal with such a situation. I had no prior exposure to homosexuality or bisexuality, and it scared me. It was all so new, and I felt overwhelmed. On top of dealing with girls constantly vying for his attention, I now had to deal with jealousy over men, too.
Marcelo and his brother adopted the "emo" style that was popular in 2008 and 2009, hanging out with people from that scene, which terrified me. I wanted the Marcelo I’d fallen for to come back. But this was who he was now, and I had to either accept it or let him go. I was so in love that I tried to accept it, even tried to change him, while refusing to acknowledge the truth that was obvious to everyone else.
Looking back, I think he was bisexual. He clearly liked women and had been with plenty, but I’m not certain. All I know is that Marcelo was my first great love, my first everything—my first real relationship, my first sexual experience, my first heartbreak. When we broke up after a fight in April 2009, he said he wanted to enjoy life and wasn’t ready for a serious relationship. From his perspective, it made sense. But for me, my world fell apart.
After the betrayal on Valentine’s Day, we actually had a few happy months together, but deep down, I always felt like he continued to cheat on me. He cared about me, but he just couldn’t stay faithful. I’m certain of it—I just don’t know the exact number of people he cheated on me with, but it was a lot. And, like many women who know but pretend they don’t, I looked the other way. It’s that classic story: bad with him, worse without him. The cheating itself was excruciating, a terrible pain—but nothing compared to the agony of losing him.
As I told you, he was my first boyfriend. We traveled together, shared amazing moments, and I was completely in love with him. He knew my entire family, and I knew his, so when it ended, my world fell apart.
In April 2009, we broke up. I was 16 at the time and didn’t feel anything for anyone else until I was 18. I spent two years without getting involved with anyone. During that time, I went through about a year and a half of serious depression. I became extremely thin, lost a lot of weight, and even skipped celebrating my 17th birthday altogether. I didn’t want anyone congratulating me or sending messages. It was awful because, until then, I had loved birthdays and always celebrated them. Since that year, my birthdays have never felt the same.
There were days when I’d spend hours in my dark room, lying in bed, not wanting to eat, not wanting to do anything at all. My parents were deeply worried; they suffered so much seeing me like that. I remember one time my dad came into my room, ready to scold me, to say enough was enough—that he couldn’t take it anymore. But I was so broken, so lost, that the moment he opened the door angrily, I ran to him, crying, and hugged him tightly. That moment completely disarmed him. He hugged me back, overwhelmed with pity, and said we needed to come up with a plan to get him back, the one I loved so much.
It was such a sweet gesture from my dad... but there was no plan to get him back. Too much had happened, and during that time, I lost my faith in God. That’s when I became an atheist. I stopped believing altogether, and even now, I don’t believe—but today, it’s for entirely different reasons. Back then, though, it was when I first started questioning everything.
But that’s a story for another chapter—it’s a sensitive topic involving religion and much more. That period of my life was excruciating, and I can’t recall anything more painful than what I went through back then. Well, except for one thing: when I almost lost my daughter—you.
Anyway, after Marcelo and I broke up, we only kissed one more time after that, and then never again.
I remember I couldn’t bring myself to go back to school for about two weeks after we ended things. I ended up asking for a transfer back to my old school, Paulista. I tried to go, but Melanie, I’ll never forget the feeling I had when I walked through those doors again. First, I looked terrible—my face was a mess, I was wasting away, so thin that everyone probably thought I was sick. And I was, but in a way that was hard to explain—emotionally, spiritually, completely drained.
Stepping into that school felt like stepping into the past after having glimpsed an incredible future. That school was my past, a chapter I had closed, something I didn’t want to return to. After transferring, I’d discovered a new school, made new friends, and fallen in love with a new environment where I thought I’d continue my life. Coming back to that old place felt like I was being dragged ten steps back in my life.
And then there were the stares. I was convinced people were judging me, thinking, Look at her. She left here for a new school, flaunted her perfect relationship with Marcelo all over social media, and now she’s been dumped and come crawling back. Rationally, I know they probably weren’t thinking that. But in my mind, that’s all I could see—the whispers, the stares, the judgment.
I imagined them saying, There’s Natasha, the lovestruck girl who couldn’t stop posting pictures of her perfect boyfriend from the new school, and now here she is, heartbroken, crying, miserable, ugly—and worst of all, completely alone, with no one, not even friends.
The weight of that humiliation was unbearable. I couldn’t last more than two hours in that school. It was one of the worst feelings I’ve ever experienced. I wanted to scream, roll on the ground, and pound my fists and feet like a tantrum-throwing child. I wanted to shout at the top of my lungs. But I was silenced—by my age, by the weight of societal expectations, by my own sense of decorum.
After that episode, I decided it was time to turn things around and try going back to Isaac Newton. I straightened my hair, got a nose piercing, and gave it a shot. It kind of worked—for a few days or maybe a couple of weeks. But every time I heard something about him, whether it was gossip or just news I didn’t want to know, it was unbearable. I couldn’t handle it.
I ended up bouncing from school to school, believe it or not, until I finally landed at Alvorada. That’s where I stayed and finished high school. But before I found Alvorada, I went through so many schools, always feeling like I had to run away because every place felt suffocating, like I was drowning.
It was such a complicated chapter of my life—messy and painful but also, oddly enough, a chapter with its happy moments. I have mixed feelings about what I call the 'Marcelo chapter.'
For more details, you can always read the book I wrote about him. The only thing I left out was the fact that he hooked up with other guys. Oh, and I lied about the ending of the book—but you’ll understand why when you get there.
Everything else, though? 100% real, including the dialogue.
09/12 Chapter 347: So close, so far
I was really curious about that apartment I’d been eyeing—Verdant. I reached out to one of the sellers, and guess what? The price jumped more than R$100,000 over the past few months. A while back, I spoke to a real estate agent, and she quoted around R$1,700,000. Now, it’s R$1,958,000 and some. This building just keeps appreciating. Acting casual, I brought it up with my parents, just to see if we could visit the construction site, discuss payment options, and all that.
Today, we scheduled an afternoon appointment with the agent. Of course, we couldn’t get inside the construction site, but we got a good look at the building. It’s supposed to be ready by next May. Even though the structure is up, there’s still a lot to do. None of the leisure areas are complete, so we doubt it’ll be finished on time.
When we arrived, Clayton, the agent, greeted us and explained everything about the apartment. He mentioned the condo fees, which we liked—around R$1,300. That’s not much more than the R$1,000 I pay here for almost nothing. This one will have a sand court, soccer field, huge heated pools, a gym, sauna, and a full leisure area. The only downside? My mom thought the balcony was small, but I’m sure it’s just the angle—it’ll look better up close.
The unit I’m considering is the smallest, at 129 m², and the most affordable. There’s a 133 m² option with a small balcony in the master suite, but that adds a whopping R$400,000. Then there’s the grand 155 m² unit, not to mention the penthouse at over 300 m²—definitely for millionaires.
The payment plan goes like this: R$500,000 upfront, which I have, and R$600,000 upon key delivery, supposedly in May. But even the agent admitted that’s unlikely—it might be delayed until November. Honestly, the longer it takes, the better for us, giving us time to sell our current place. If we sell it for R$500,000, that covers most of the key delivery payment, leaving only R$100,000 to scrape together, which I’m sure my dad could lend me. The rest—around R$700,000—would need to be financed.
On paper, it seems doable. I got so excited, pestering my parents about it. But later, back home, reality hit: I can’t have it all. I’m already in the middle of a U.S. visa process. Buying such a high-end apartment means I’d barely get to enjoy it before renting it out to focus on my life abroad. Sure, the rental income—about R$5,000 to R$7,000 monthly—would help in the U.S., but with the current exchange rate, that’s under $1,000, barely enough to cover rent in California.
And let’s not forget the bigger picture: this apartment costs R$1,958,000. I have R$1,000,000, but the rest? It took me 31 years to save R$500,000—half of which my dad gave me. Where would I find another R$958,000? Even if my dad sold his office to help, I’d owe him forever. Unless I start earning in dollars and saving to repay him, it’s just too much.
Then there’s the cost of furnishing and decorating—a must for me. Décor makes a place, even a tiny 40 m² apartment can feel luxurious if styled well. Remember that Airbnb in Santos? Small, but beautifully done. Decorating a 129 m² apartment would easily add R$100,000. So, I’d need to find R$900,000 or more to make it perfect. And then what? Move to San Diego and leave everything behind for tenants who probably wouldn’t care for it like I would.
In the end, I realized this building, as amazing as it is, isn’t for me—not in my reality. I can’t drag my parents into something that’s purely my dream. My dad has the money, I don’t. But that doesn’t stop me from browsing other properties within my R$1,000,000 budget. Still, finding anything over 100 m² in São Paulo at that price feels impossible, which is why this one seemed so perfect.
I messaged my mom to say I wouldn’t bug her anymore. I’d thought it through and knew this wasn’t realistic. She was proud of my maturity and decision-making, which meant a lot since she knows how stubborn I can be when I want something. But this time, no one had to talk me out of it—I figured it out myself. I sent my dad a similar message, and he encouraged me not to give up, to keep searching for something I’d love.
And so, the search for a new dream begins.
PS: How is it possible to miss something you never had?
Goodbye, Verdant!
10-11/12 Chapter 348: Let's get retarded
I spoke with Clayton and laid out the situation honestly, admitting that as much as I loved the apartment, it simply wasn’t realistic for me. He tried to insist a little, but I explained that while I was determined to buy an apartment through him, it had to fit my budget. I asked him to look for places over 100 square meters and priced at no more than R$1,000,300. He mentioned a development called Raízes in Jardim São Paulo, scheduled for delivery in 2026.
2026, though, isn’t ideal for me. I need a ready-to-move-in apartment—or at the latest, something by 2025. Otherwise, I won’t get much use out of it. That said, the Raízes project does sound appealing. Its layout and style seem similar to the apartment I fell in love with, though with fewer amenities. However, I’ve been discussing Raízes with a different agent, and if I decide to explore it, I’ll go through her.
I’ve been searching endlessly, scrolling through countless listings, but finding an apartment over 100 square meters as perfect as the one I adored feels impossible. Sure, there are some nice buildings, but the condo fees are absurd—over R$2,000—and offer almost nothing in return. Older buildings, in particular, have this issue. It’s frustrating… nothing seems to match the value of the apartment I’m still obsessing over.
Clayton did send me another option for R$1,000,300, which seemed spacious and was, after all, R$600,000 cheaper. I agreed to visit it with my mom tomorrow, and earlier in the day, I’ll meet the other agent to check out the Raízes model. The construction has just begun.
I’m hopeful I’ll find something that suits me, allowing us to start fresh in a better place. It’s not just about having a home; it’s also an investment. Real estate usually appreciates, and with a bigger apartment, I could also get better rental income down the line.
Still, I can’t deny it—I feel like a widow. I’ve barely let go of that apartment, yet I’m already comparing every other place to it. I feel like someone still hung up on their ex.
The next day, I visited both properties. As expected, my mom was late, delaying everything since the viewings were scheduled back-to-back.
After dropping you off at school, we headed straight to Jardim São Paulo to learn more about the Raízes project. It’s priced at R$1,000,300 but has less square footage than the apartment I loved, fewer amenities, and the biggest drawback—it’ll be ready by late 2027, not 2026 as they initially claimed. That’s way too far out for me. By then, I might already be in San Diego. It’s not worth the wait.
Next, we rushed to meet Clayton. Despite the delay, we managed to see the apartment. My mom liked it, but I had some reservations: I wasn’t enchanted. And that matters. If I’m going to go through all the hassle of moving, it needs to be to a place that truly excites me, a place that makes my eyes light up. This one didn’t.
Although it’s bigger, it’s not that big. It’s a relatively new building—about ten years old, like ours—but far less well-maintained. Despite its size, the entire building feels neglected. Our current place, though small, has always had excellent management. Otávio, our current property manager, may not have the warmest personality, but he’s efficient. He’s constantly working on improvements, so our building looks practically new.
This one, by contrast, has a rundown vibe. The pool is unattractive, the party room tiny, and while the kids’ play area is better than ours, that’s about it. The condo fees are higher, and there are only two apartments per floor, which makes me doubt the quoted fees are even accurate. They also use a virtual concierge system, which I hate. Plus, the neighborhood felt off—not bad, just not appealing. It’s near that pizza place we frequent, but something about it didn’t sit right with me. Or maybe I’m just looking for reasons to dislike it because, deep down, I keep comparing everything to the apartment I fell for.
That’s the thing about falling in love—whether it’s with a person, a place, or an idea. You start comparing everything else, and nothing measures up. Your mind tricks you into finding flaws, just to remind yourself how special the thing you loved was.
I told my mom and the agent that no place would ever feel as good as the Verdant apartment. Sensing my hesitation, the agent took his chance: What could you actually afford for that place? My mom quickly jumped in with R$1,000,700.
If you think about it, R$1,000,700 versus R$1,950,000 is a R$250,000 difference—significant. Clayton said he’d try to convince his manager to accept the offer. That gave us hope.
And here I am again, dreaming of something that’s still out of reach. My mom said she’d talk to my dad to see what he thinks about this potential deal. But now, it feels like I’ve been given a taste of something sweet again, and with $250,000 off, I’m starting to get excited, imagining ways to make it work. Maybe I could work harder, wake up early, head to Brás, and try reselling goods.
But then I think—I can’t work more; I’m already struggling to give you the attention you deserve. Still, sometimes in life, you have to take a leap of faith.
Is it risky? Sure. But everything in life carries risks. If you never take them, you never grow. If I buy that place for $1,000,700, I know it’ll be worth much more in a few years. And, like I said, the rental income from it could help fund our move to San Diego. It’s an investment, after all. Now, I just have to wait for the manager’s response and see if this dream can become a reality.
Let's get retarted and put it all in.
Extra* Chapter 346: Still got scars in my back from a knife (Laís' Chapter)
Today, I’m diving into the second extra story here in the book, which touches on my past. The first extra I wrote was about my first relationship when I was very young, just 15. This second story ties into that one, but also brings in the theme of friendships. Let’s begin. Marcelo and I were together for all of 2008, starting in March and breaking up in April 2009. School had started back in early February, I believe it was the first week. As always, the new school year brings fresh faces—new students and some familiar ones leaving for other schools. This year, I requested a transfer to be in the same class as my boyfriend. I was in Class A, he was in Class B, and I switched to Class B to be with him.
This year, two new girls joined, Laís and Karina. They were best friends who transferred from another school, much like I did with Ana during my first year at this school—though we weren’t coming from the same previous school. Imagine two beautiful girls—Laís and Karina. Everyone thought they were stunning, and on top of their looks, they were also warm and kind, which made us bond right away. As I mentioned, I’ve always tried to connect with new people because I know how tough it can be to be the new one. I try to put myself in others’ shoes. They were so alike that people started calling them "twins," but there was one thing that set them apart—aside from their similar hair color and height, they had unique features, which I can appreciate now.
Like I said, we became fast friends. We’d go over to each other’s houses, hang out at a burger joint, and do things like that. I remember that their parents were pretty strict and didn’t allow them to go out much at night to places like clubs or parties. So, our hangouts were always calm, like going to the mall or having a meal at a restaurant. Both their families were more protective in that way.
Something that really stood out about Laís was the necklace she wore. She told me she’d made a vow of chastity—she would only lose her virginity after marriage. I found that admirable in a way, though it’s rare to meet someone who thinks that way today. Whether or not she followed through, I don’t know, but I always thought it was nice. Though, in my opinion, intimacy before marriage is important—it’s possible that people won’t click in that department, and if you marry someone without that connection, well, things are unlikely to work out. But that’s a discussion for another time. One I’m not sure I’ll ever be comfortable having with my daughter. I certainly wouldn’t with my mother. Tainá, though, she’s open about it.
Back to school life, the three of us would hang out together, though I often spent time with my boyfriend. I do remember that a lot of the girls in my class didn’t like me, and to this day, I’m not sure why. They’d mock me, laugh behind my back, talk about me... and it only got worse when my relationship ended. There was one girl, Renata Pimenta, who made my life a living hell. I never did anything to her, but she treated me like I was her enemy. She was so fake. I remember once I tried to add her on social media, and she rejected me. Later, when I was with my boyfriend, she asked why I hadn’t added her. My boyfriend laughed and said, “She did, but you rejected her.” Of course, she denied it. What a joke.
All I know is that in the short time I stayed at that school after my relationship ended, this girl made my life so miserable that my sister, who was only 14 at the time, gathered a tough group of friends to confront her at the school gates. At one point, even my dad almost got involved—and my parents were never the type to step into these situations. But one night, he saw me crying so much that he said something like, "Let’s see if this Pimenta is really as spicy as she claims." It was sweet seeing him try to protect me.
When Marcelo and I broke up, the girls really stood by me. Not just Roberta, who I considered a sister and will talk about later, but also some friends from school, like Karina, Laís, and Rafa. We became close with Rafa after she ended her relationship with a guy from our class. I felt truly supported—not just by them but by friends outside of school, especially the boys.
However, there's something important about depression, my daughter: at first, people will try to help. They’ll reach out, offer a hand, and try to understand. But there comes a point when your sadness lingers too long, and people start to pull away. They can’t handle that constant negative energy. Very few will stick by your side during prolonged moments of despair—parents, maybe, but friends? It’s rare, especially at that age when everyone is still figuring themselves out, having fun, and just starting to explore life.
I began losing friends because of the depression I fell into—friends I loved dearly. Now, I understand it better. I was making my problems everyone’s problems, and true, loyal friends are hard to come by. You’ll have plenty of friends while you’re young, especially around 14 or 15. It feels like everyone is a friend. But once you reach adulthood, my dear, you’ll realize only a handful will stick around.
Well, I started losing friends here and there, but some stayed. That wasn’t really the problem, though. The real issue was that now Marcelo, single again, could be with any girl he wanted. And for me, that was incredibly hard and painful to accept—or even think about. You have no idea how difficult it was for me.
Then I heard rumors that Laís, who was supposed to be my friend, had her eye on him. And honestly? I get it. The twins were some of the most attractive guys I’d ever seen in Brazil. Seriously, very good-looking. And let’s be real—handsome men here are rare. They’re the exception, not the rule. Even in high school, they were striking. I’ve told you before, back then I thought I was ugly. And honestly, I was. So I could never fully understand why Marcelo was with me in the first place.
But even so, there’s something called friendship ethics, and that should always come before any fleeting attraction. Especially from someone like Laís, someone I saw as strong and principled. Funny enough, looking back now, I think if any girl had to get involved with him, it might’ve been better if it was her—at least I’d know there wouldn’t be anything more than kissing, right? Hahaha. But back then, at 16, even just the idea of a kiss was enough to shatter my heart into pieces.
I don’t remember if I confronted her or talked to her about it. I think she denied everything, and Marcelo also promised he wouldn’t go there because she was my friend. I’ve always believed this: friendship should come before any guy—unless it’s your husband or serious boyfriend. Seriously, there are millions of people in the world, millions of guys. Why ruin a friendship over someone you’re not even considering having a real relationship with?
I started to grow suspicious of Laís, though, and every day I lived in fear of hearing that they’d kissed. It’s crazy, right? How just a kiss—someone putting their tongue in someone else’s mouth—can ruin your entire day and break your heart.
And you know, I’d been through something similar before. Back in eighth grade, there was this guy, Lucas, a senior in high school. Two of my friends at the time, Karina and Cibele, both stabbed me in the back to be with him. They chose a guy who didn’t want anything serious over a friendship. I had felt betrayed back then too, but it wasn’t the same. With Lucas, I had a little crush, but I didn’t love him. Marcelo was my first real love—my first in almost everything.
So I knew how much it hurt to be betrayed by someone you loved and trusted as a friend. I’d already experienced the pain of seeing someone I cared about throw our friendship away. But this time, that pain was stacked on top of the heartbreak of losing the person who, at that moment, meant everything to me.
And it happened. The one who told me was Marcelo’s sister, my ex-sister-in-law, who I really liked and cared about. I’ll never forget the moment I found out that Laís and Marcelo had kissed. My world completely fell apart.
I remember crying in the car on the way home with my mom. When I learned what had happened, I broke down. It felt like the pain was eating me alive from the inside out. I let out a scream in the car, a deep, guttural cry that startled my mom so much she pulled over to try and calm me down. But it felt like I was being stabbed, over and over, and I screamed with each stab. It was one of the worst moments of my life.
What made it worse was that this time, it wasn’t a surprise—I had prayed every night that it wouldn’t happen, and yet it did. Why did it have to come from someone I loved and trusted as a friend?
The only good thing that came out of this was that Karina and Rafaela stood by me. They completely cut ties with Laís—especially Karina, who had been close to her since they’d come from the same school. She distanced herself and embraced my pain. And Karina? We’re still in touch to this day. Funny how life works, isn’t it?
