Regina closes the apartment door, radiant. She could even jump for so much joy that invaded her chest. Her plan was working. He could even see himself strolling through Ibirapuera Park once again. She was so involved in her thoughts that she could not notice the presence of her son Marcelo, who had just entered the room adjusting his jacket.

— What are you up to,  Regina? - Asks Marcelo arching his eyebrow.
—Oh what a fright, boy! - Cries Regina turning towards her son. She stares at him, angry as she says: — Is that any way to talk to her mother?
— It’s very obvious from his face that he’s up to something. - Marcelo replies pointing towards his mother’s face. — And with the Machiavellian smile, I’m sure it’s about Leandro and Helena. You know, Miss Regina, any normal mother, when she saw that her daughter was left at the altar, wouldn’t want to see the guy or painted gold. Already the lady practically threw her daughter in the arms of the guy I do not know if you remember, left her a few hours before getting married.

— I haven’t forgotten, but everyone deserves a second chance. Even more so when he shows repentance...– Regina argues. — Not to mention that it’s up to Lena to decide whether to take Leandro back or not.
— And if Lena decides that she does not want to give this second chance to Leandro, will you be able to accept? - Asks Marcelo with a tone of challenge.
—Of course. - Says Regina, not as sure as she tried to demonstrate. 
— So if my sister chooses not to stay with Leandro but with Bruno, will you not object? - Asks Marcelo, suspicious.
— Bruno? Who is Bruno? - Asks Regina, pretending not to remember the boy from Parati. She then takes a deep breath and looks at her son with contempt. — Ah, of course, the bike rack...
— Cyclist. Bruno is a cyclist. - He corrects Marcelo calmly. — And yes, if she chose him, would you accept?

— Do you really think your sister would trade the Albuquerque heir for a boy who can barely support himself?
—You don’t know that. - Says Marcelo. — You have no idea of Bruno’s financial conditions, so you can’t judge him.
— And you know, Mister Know-it-all? 
—No, but it does not matter to me whether he is rich or not.- Marcelo replies by taking his key from the sideboard. — The only thing I wish for is for my sister to be happy.
— It may not seem like it, Marcelo, but I only wish happiness for you two.
— I know, so today we talk to her and listen to what Helena has to say. - Marcelo proposes. — If she chooses Bruno, we have to accept it; you understand?
—Of course. - Says Regina.
— Until later, Mom. - Speaks Marcelo before kissing his mother’s forehead. — Behave yourself.

Marcelo walks towards the door of the apartment being accompanied by his mother, who closes it quickly and then turns, saying:

—Hell will have to freeze before that happens. 

***
Helena passed the entire route with her face turned towards the window on her side, so she did not allow Leandro to open any kind of dialogue with her. Her neck was already complaining of pain when her ex-fiancé finally pulled the vehicle into the building’s parking lot. She takes a deep breath and then turns her body towards the seat belt buckle to loosen as fast as she can. However, as soon as he put his hand on the buckle, Leandro put his preventing her from opening:

—Thank you for the ride, Leandro. - Helena speaks while trying to force the opening of the belt. — Now I need to go, because I’m very late.
— All right. - Says Leandro, taking his hand from the buckle while smiling, which caught Helena’s attention.
—What was it? - Asks Helena without understanding the smile of the ex-fiancé.
— Nothing... 
—What is it, Leandro? Say. - Ask Helena, serious. 
—Nothing.
—Leandro. - Calls Helena, angry.
—Ahhh… I don’t know. I’m afraid to talk, and you practically jump out of the car. - Explains Leandro.

—Say what I see if I run or not. - Proposes Helena, curious.
— Well, I just want to say that you look very beautiful with that blonde hair. - Leandro praises 
— Oh yeah? So let me tell you something... – Says Helena, touching Leandro’s tie and then approaches her face. — I’ll dye my hair brown on Saturday. 
— Seriously, what a pity. The blonde matched very well with you. - Praises seductive Leandro touching a blonde lock of Helena.
—Is that right? 'Cause you know I don’t give a shit about you! You know what? That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Now I understand why you came to me! It was just because of the color of my hair, right? 
—What? No, no...
—No? Imagine. You men are all the same! You only see our appearance, the color of our hair! What a jerk! I’m a brunette and I’m very proud! And you know what? You’re right, I should have run away to have listened to this nonsense. I am more than the tone of my hair, and you do not deserve to have the pleasure of knowing me. Pass well, Bruno! - Ends Helena getting out of the car and slamming the door with all force.

Leandro is wide-eyed before the unusual reaction of Helena that he swore would be quite different. The Helena he knew would no doubt melt for that silly compliment, but this… turned into a beast. The boy sneaks out his window, straining to scream to the point of being heard by Helena:

— My name is Leandro!

***
Helena walks towards her table being accompanied by the curious look of Lucia who practically cornered her wondering how was the night of her friend. Lena then sat down and told everything without leaving a single detail, ending the story with the events of the morning, impressing even more her friend who faced her without believing:

— You know, I don’t understand why men are like that. - Comments Helena, disgusted. — Gosh, I am more than my appearance. I just wish they could see me for who I am.

—Oh my friend, but men only see us as objects. We are just a beautiful decorative item to be commented on in the circle of friends. - It explains Lucia calmly as she turned towards her computer. 
— You know what, I’ll call my hairdresser right now. - Informs Helena picking up her landline and dialing. - I’ll reschedule my hair as soon as possible. 

— Good morning, is there a Helena in that sector? - Asks the courier with a package in his hands.
—It’s her... - Lúcia speaks, pointing towards her friend.
— Sign here, please. - Ask the courier to Helena who signs and then the boy delivers the package and leaves, leaving the curious friends.

Helena stares at the package for a few moments and then begins to spin her hands in search of the sender. Until then, she comes across the name of Bruno Siqueira Matos. She tears up the package and then finds Bruno’s mother’s costumes and the costume she gave him.

—Cycling clothes? - Ask Lucia without understanding the order.
— Yes, I left it at the inn to be delivered to Bruno... – Comments Helena, facing the clothes thrown at his table. — And the coward had the ability to give me back!
— So, what do you want to do? - Asks Lucia, curious.
— I have an idea. - Says Helena, enigmatic.

The blonde sits at her desk and then picks up a paper, where she begins to write firmly under the eyes of Lucia that each sentence releases a chuckle of satisfaction.

***
 Helena stared at the computer clock without blinking, begging to reach the end of the working day. She had already planned everything: she would run away and go to the nearest post office, where she would return the package to Bruno with his provocative letter. When she finally gave the time, Lena ran away, leaving even Lucia behind. She was lucky to get to the elevator hall and have one still open, which makes her tighten her steps and get it. In five minutes she already left the door of the building, confident with his plan when he comes across Leandro in the door and in his hands a box of paint for brown hair.

— What is it? - Helena asks without understanding what the hell it meant.
— Helena, you said you’re proud to be a brunette…–Leandro starts approaching. — I bought this box of hair dye to tell you that I’m proud too and if you want, I can even dye your hair... and then my hair to prove it to you.
— Leandro...
—Helena, I don’t care what you look like. - Continues Leandro. — Let me prove that I deserve you.