- Soul Portraits: The Light That Connects Us.

The house was filled with soft lights, white linen fabrics, wildflowers, and toys scattered with purpose. Dimitri, always with his artistic eye on the surface, had turned the main living room into a small photographic studio full of warmth and truth.

"I want these photos to speak," he told Lara as he adjusted the lens. "To tell your story without shouting it. For people to see what’s there without needing an explanation."

Lara, dressed in a light linen gown, her hair loose, held Thiago in her arms. The little boy laughed as his mother made him fly through the air, and with every click of the camera, his laughter was frozen like a visual poem.

"What if they leak?" she asked in a low voice.

"Let them leak," Dimitri replied without hesitation. "Let them see whatever they want to see. This is your truth: a happy mother, a loved child. There’s no scandal in that."

She nodded. She was no longer afraid of being seen.

During lunch, while Thiago was drawing smiling monsters with crayons on an old tablecloth and Dimitri was selecting the best shots, Lara’s phone vibrated. The screen showed a name that no longer stirred anguish, but rather a mix of nostalgia and unformed questions: Leo.

"Hi," she answered calmly.

"How are you guys?" he asked from some far corner of the world, with background noise and a voice trying to sound light.

"We're fine. Thiago is drawing smiling monsters, and Dimitri is turning him into a little star through his lens."

Leo laughed, albeit briefly.

"I would have loved to be there. But, you know... commitments."

"I know," Lara replied. "It’s okay. You’re calling, and that also counts."

There was a small silence. One of those silences that wasn’t uncomfortable, but didn’t go unnoticed either.

"Can I talk to him?" he asked.

She approached her son.

"Sweetheart, it’s your dad. Do you want to say hello?"

Thiago smiled and took the phone, speaking in his sweet, half-formed words. Leo listened attentively, answering tenderly, making promises that he would see him soon. Lara watched from a distance. There was tenderness, yes... but also a constant question beating in her chest: how long could this fragile balance last?

That afternoon, Dimitri uploaded one of the black-and-white photos to his professional profile. He didn’t mention names. He simply wrote:

"Motherhood is not always planned, but love always is. #RealLove #LivingPortrait"

The image was simple and powerful: Lara sitting on the floor, Thiago asleep in her lap, with a soft light falling over them both.

Hours later, the messages started arriving. From acquaintances. From agents. From magazines.

And then, like a curious but distant echo: the media.

"Do you think this will escalate?" Lara asked, watching the number of likes climb.

"Maybe," Dimitri replied. "But if it does, let it be with beauty. Let it speak of you as you are now: a woman who chooses to be brave every single day."

Dimitri’s words touched her. Since Thiago’s birth, and since becoming a mother, Lara had received kind words not only from her brother, but also from her father, friends, and other family members from the very beginning.

Lara had always wanted to be a single mother, to give Thiago a life away from the spotlight, not to raise him the way she and Dimitri had been raised. She knew that the moment would come without a set date — it would just happen when Leo knew the truth.

Now he knew. He was not an absent father; he always did his best. And about the important agents, magazines, the media... it was exactly what she didn’t want. But the way Dimitri expressed it made her think. What mattered most was protecting Thiago from harassment if she ever decided to let her son enter that world of fashion and social attention.

"Just understand that I will accept it, but on my terms and with my rights. My priority is protecting my son."

"You have every right, sister. I want this to be healthy for Thiago, for you... and I’ll be his private photographer, handled the way you want it."

"Thank you. We should eat."

"How about we order pizza? Don’t cook today, let’s eat your favorite."

"I’ll call and order it," Lara said, making the call and ordering two pizzas: one pepperoni and one mushroom — because her brother liked to eat well — along with two orders of oven-baked potatoes, their favorite treat.

A while later, with the television playing a children’s show that Thiago watched attentively, Lara was writing in her planner while speaking on the phone with Diana.

Dimitri also watched the cartoon with Thiago leaning against him. After ending her call, Lara got up, grabbed her phone, and from a good angle, captured a photo: Thiago resting against his uncle, both immersed in the show. Intentionally, she sent the photo to Leo.

She thought that if, instead of Dimitri, it had been Leo hugging their son in that photo, it would have been incredible.

The doorbell rang, interrupting her thoughts.

"It must be the pizza. I’ll get it."

"Okay, Dimitri. I’ll give you the money."

"No, don't worry. I’ll pay," Dimitri said as he went to the door, greeted the delivery guy, and received the order. Lara quickly checked that everything was correct: each pizza as requested, and the potatoes too. Dimitri had already paid.

They prepared the glasses, plates, a bottle of ketchup, spicy sauce for Dimitri, and the little packets that came with the pizza. Then they sat down to enjoy their meal, Thiago included, happily biting into his pizza.

Later that night, Leo called again. This time, just to ask how Thiago had slept. And somehow, that touched a tender place in Lara. Because for the first time, she didn’t feel alone in her motherhood.

"Thiago’s asleep. Lately, he prefers to leave his room and come sleep in my bed. I hope you saw the photo I sent you."

"Of course, I saw it. The one with your brother."

"Yes. They were watching Thiago’s favorite show. I saw them and just had to capture it."

While Leo listened to her voice, he was in his office — his safe place to speak freely. Even if he didn’t say it out loud, he truly wished he could have been there: sharing the pizza, the talks, simply being beside his son.

They talked late into the night.

Sometimes, love doesn’t come through grand confessions, but through small, sincere questions repeated over and over again.