Chapter Twenty-Three

Twenty-Three

I forgot my key, and Erik doesn't answer the door. Great.

I text him, and he says he is at the gym, coming home in half an hour, so I decide to walk around the block while I wait.

Instead of taking a stroll by the lake, I walk on the other side of the residential buildings and end up in a public playground. Something makes me open the gate and walk inside. It's getting dark earlier and earlier these days. The sky is already at that mystic cobalt color, going navy within the hour, the streetlamps slowly lighting up.

A handful of kids are swinging, climbing, making sand cakes, and running around loudly. Tired parents call after them, eager to go home and eat dinner. I claim an empty table and watch the activity, knowing that soon I'll be the only one here.

I take my computer out of my backpack and open the latest files in our shared Love Birds folder. I haven't touched them in a while. I'm seeing everything as an external observer—and the idea seems weak and incomplete, like a jumble of pieces that don't connect.

My laptop screen is the lightest thing around when Erik joins me fifteen minutes after texting to ask where I am. When he sits by my side—already showered and equipped for a chilly night—he gives me a kiss and sets a thermos on the table, along with two paper cups.

"I brought coffee."

I force a smile. "You should have brought liquor instead." I rub my face, wondering how to begin. I didn't want to text him about what happened today. This had to be a conversation face-to-face. "We should go inside. It's cold and dark."

"Not that cold— refreshing . Not that dark— inspiring ." Erik smiles at me. "I thought you were the optimist of the two of us."

"Hard to be optimistic after today," I mumble.

"What happened?" A shadow crosses his face.

I take a deep breath and release the bomb. "They're stealing your idea, that is what's happening. Scorpio's next game is Martin's version of Love Birds."

"What? " Erik stands up. "I thought that..." He loses his train of thought, shocked. I pull him back down, and he sits heavily next to me. His face is pale, his chest rising and falling, panic-stricken.

I've had my visceral reaction. First in the meeting room, then in the bathroom at work, then leaving as early as I could, walking all the way home so I could put on my headphones and cry while blasting aggressive rock. I wasn't in a hurry to arrive and tell Erik the news.

"Erik." I turn his face to me gently with both hands. His eyes are moving around as if he is trying to find a way out. "Erik, look at me. We won't let them, okay? Martin wasn't chosen as game director yet. It's not over."

The more I think about it, the more it feels like there is no choice I can live with but fighting back.

"It is over, Sol." He gazes at me at last, wide-eyed, disturbed. "Lars listened to that asshole. They have the resources we don't have. Trying to beat them is stupid. They won't give up."

"Erik, listen." I bring his face closer to mine so he can look into my eyes. I need to be strong to support him, no matter how scared and hurt I am. "We might not stop them from making their version, but we can finish ours and show them how it's done. We'll get it published before them, and they will be the clowns."

Erik looks down, sighing. Where is the anger that will fuel him?

"We thought this could happen, didn't we?" I say. "That was the reason we made our deal." I won't abandon him now. "What we feared happened a little before we thought it would. So all we have to do is speed up."

Erik shakes his head and looks down, avoiding my eyes. I let my hands fall, feeling a sudden rush of hopelessness. If he doesn't believe it can be done, doesn't even want to try, how can I?

"You can't help me anymore, Sol." I stare at him, panic rising in my chest. He looks up and meets my gaze. "You can't take up arms on my behalf. You work at Scorpio Games, and I don't want my dream to ruin yours."

I hug him. I press my arms tight around him and bury my face in his shoulder. I need his warmth as much as he needs mine. Nothing we can tell each other now will be easy to say or hear, so we stay silent.

I want to tell him I don't care about my job at Scorpio. But since I don't have any other job opportunities in sight, that would be the same as saying I don't care about us .

Erik ends the hug and holds my hands. "Just stay out of it, okay? Focus on your career, on your promotion."

I laugh with disdain. "You mean the promotion that will make me director of your game?"

"Love Birds is yours too now," he says, and there is endearment in his eyes. Like he is happy for my involvement in it.

I give him a sad smile. "It's still your app, and I don't want to take ownership of it when Scorpio is in charge, and you're not even there."

"If that's what it takes for you to stay in Denmark, with me, I'll gladly pay the price."

Silence. My eyes fill up with tears. It's sweet, romantic even, that he's willing to sacrifice his dream for mine. For us. But how can I be okay with that?

A gust of wind blows as we look at the empty playground. There is something ghostly about it at this hour. It's gloomy, but also somehow magical, like an abandoned land outside of time.

"What if you talk to Lars?" I say after a while. "You tell him your version of the story and ask him not to go ahead with the project."

"I can't do that."

"Why not?" I raise my head to look at him. There is a single light pole on the perimeter of the playground, casting a weak glow a few feet behind Erik. His eyes are dark in the shadows, their bluish transparency hidden.

"He knows it's my project, and he doesn't care."

I can't argue with that. I heard it from Lars himself.

"I can look for other jobs, you know," I tell him with a weak voice that reflects my discouragement. With so many Europeans in the city, companies are not exactly jumping at the opportunity to hire someone who needs a visa.

Even Erik is still unemployed, and things are different for him. As a Dane in Denmark, he has so many rights that I don't have. An entire support system. A network of people who can help him. A family who will always take him in and even aid him financially.

My parents can't help me when I'm here. They barely make ends meet in Brasília, and I've even loaned them some money when they needed to fix their roof after a storm. I make more money than they do combined. Living costs are different here, much higher, but I'm still way better off than most people I know back home. It's hard to give up on such a thing, even when you hate your job. I know it could be so much worse for me, and then I feel spoiled whenever I find myself loathing Scorpio Games. Even now.

So I understand Erik doesn't want me to give up. He knows he's more privileged than I am. That he could quit his job and live off unemployment benefits.

He knows the country doesn't want me here if I'm a burden. And I know that even if we got married, nothing would change. I'd still need a job, a proven income. You don't get Danish citizenship for marrying a Dane.

"I wish I could hire you in my company," Erik says with a hint of annoyance, and I get annoyed too, because now the possibility of him making money off his app and kick-starting his business is going down the drain.

No. He doesn't have to give up.

" You don't have to stop working on the app, Erik," I say with a hand on his face. "I know how much this project means to you. And you can make it happen. I know you're on a tight schedule, even tighter now. They might start working on it in January. But you're skilled and efficient. You can finish it in a month."

He doesn't reply, biting his lower lip, eyelids lowered. I run a finger over the crease on his forehead, wanting it to disappear. I wish I could make all his concerns vanish. I want to make everything right for him.

And yet, I'm useless. I have to work for the enemy.

But you don't have to be loyal to them , a voice in my head says. Not Larissa's. My own.

My heart is with Erik, and no work contract will change that.

"I'll help you, Erik," I say with sudden determination, "even if that makes me breach the noncompete clause in my contract." I let out a rough laugh. "I mean, I haven't been giving a shit about that anyway all these months."

I'm pretty sure my boss wouldn't be happy to know I've been working on an app that now competes directly with their future product. I haven't been honest, but I don't feel guilty. A war has already begun. And I'll silently fight it at Erik's side.

Erik looks at me with a slightly open mouth, the crease on his forehead deepening. "But Sol—"

"I can't quit Scorpio for now," I interrupt him. "But I won't be loyal to them."

"And what about the game director position?" There is a shine to his eyes as he blinks at me.

"I don't know." I look at my nails, swallowing hard. "Maybe I won't get it."

Erik holds me by the shoulders, making me meet his eyes. There is a new determination in his gaze. An intensity emerging from the shadows. "Sol. You need to get that position."

"But—"

"It was always meant to be yours, and it will be." His voice sounds a lot more resonant than it did a minute ago. The familiar Erik Storm fire is awakening in him. And I like that. A lot. The wild, determined Viking is back. "I want you to keep running for the position. You need to beat the shit out of Martin, okay?" I laugh a little and nod, keeping my gaze firmly on his. "If we can't beat them to publication, I want the project in your hands. In good hands ." He caresses my face, and I cover his hand with mine. "Promise me you won't give up, Sol."

I nod again, hypnotized by his eyes. I can't believe how considerate he is. How strong. How goddamn wonderful.

"I won't give up," I say.

"Good." He gives me the tiniest smile, and I wrap my arms around his neck, covering his lips with mine.

His arms close around my waist, and his tongue enters my mouth avidly. His kiss is a consolation amid chaos, warmth in a freezing world, light on a dark road. With some reluctance, I detach my mouth from his after a few seconds, afraid to go too far in a public place, but I smile and pull him by the hand.

"What are we doing?" he asks as I make him follow me.

"We're alone in a nice playground after dark," I say, expecting him to catch up with my excitement. "In fact, the nicest playground I've ever been to. Danish kids must be very happy."

"Happiest country in the world." He shrugs.

"If I showed you the playgrounds I played at when I was a child, you'd cry. Broken swings, rusty slides with missing parts... Whenever I ran to a playground, my mom panicked, and my dad tried to direct me to a field where we could play with a ball instead."

"He would probably like these courts then." Erik points at the lovely basketball court to our left, and the small fenced soccer field with artificial grass and two well-kept goals.

"Yes, he would have loved to come here with me..."

I often have these moments when cultural shock kicks in with full power. I think of all the ways my life would have been different if I had grown up in Denmark. I look at the people here and think, Damn, they're lucky.

I sometimes feel like I'm inside a dream, and my past of hardship and deprivation crawls up to the surface, reminding me that life is never this perfect. That this is what you see in movies, not what happens to real people. That all of this—clean streets, beautiful buildings, polite citizens, happy children playing in public wonderlands—must belong in someone's fantasy. My own fantasy. I think of all those days in Brazil when I struggled or saw everyone around me struggling and imagined a world like this.

After being in Denmark for so long, I often find myself so caught up in my new life here that I sometimes complain about a minor thing and realize I'm having first-world problems. Then I laugh, and oscillate between feeling happy for myself and bad that my family is not here and will never be, and I'm the only one who will experience this side of reality.

"What are you thinking about? You look so serious suddenly." Erik embraces me from behind, resting his head on my shoulder.

"Just that...when I'm with you, it's like a story someone is telling me."

"Is that good or bad?"

I smile. "I don't know, it's just that... I often look around and have the strange feeling that everything is made of cardboard. That I'm in a movie set. Someone is going to pull me out at some point. I'll hear a ‘Cut!' and the lights will dim, and I'll go back to the real world."

Erik turns me to face him, holding my waist. I put my hands on his chest and look up to see his eyes. They are loving.

And there the feeling is. A pressure in my chest, a voice in my head saying everything is fine now, but it won't last. It will fall apart. He won't be by my side forever.

I blink slowly and take a deep breath, fighting against the thoughts. I can't let them ruin this moment.

"I know what you mean," Erik says. "It happens when everything feels too perfect. Then I start to imagine the whole set crumbling until I'm buried under the wreckage."

I lean my forehead against his mouth, and he kisses it.

"But this is real, Erik, isn't it?" I whisper, very low, almost afraid to let the words out, because if said too loud, they might have the power to start the demolition.

"Yes," he whispers back against my head. "It couldn't be more real."

I pull his head down and kiss him with fervor. I need his skin, his essence, his love. I need to feel his soft hair between my fingers, the scent of his masculine shampoo stirring my butterflies. I need to taste his mouth—his soft lips, his coffee-stained tongue chasing and capturing mine. I need to be scratched by his beard, my fingers getting lost in its rough paths.

His hands are on my neck, and I let him bite my lip and turn my head from side to side to enjoy every bit of my face. I stop him before he gets hard in the playground. That must be a sin. I'm already burning, but at least I can hide it easily.

We could run to the apartment, but there will be plenty of time for sex later. I'm not done with my childish dream yet.

"Hey, are those trampolines?" I detangle from Erik, and from the way he adjusts his pants, I realize I pressed the brake right on time. I get closer to the circles I spotted on the ground, confirming my suspicions. "They are trampolines! Are you kidding me?" The floor around them is rubbery so kids won't get hurt. "This is so cool!"

I jump onto the nearest one, happy like a little girl. Erik laughs at my contentment and starts jumping on the other circle next to me. I laugh, forgetting everything. For a moment, I'm eight years old again.

"Let's see who jumps higher." I climb on one of the cubes near the trampolines, and Erik does the same. "Ready? Go!"

We jump, and Erik's propulsion is so good he flies up. We trip out of the trampolines, laughing. I hug him by the waist, and he kisses me. We back away together, bodies and mouths connected, until my leg collides with a net swing that looks like a hammock, and I lie down, pulling Erik with me.

We lie side by side, looking up. It's a full moon tonight—a beautiful, sharp silver circle glowing in a clear navy sky. We spend a few minutes admiring the beauty above us, the textures on the lunar surface clearly visible.

"It will all be fine, won't it?" I ask Erik, turning my face to admire his moonlit profile.

"It will," he assures me, trying to convince himself.

I interlock my fingers with his and pray to the skies, Don't take this away from me. Please, make it last forever.

The silence is complete and absolute.

Are you hearing me, Odin? Do not take him back, or I'll have to start Ragnarok myself.

"My back hurts." Erik winces. "This is not a comfortable place to lie down for long."

"Then let's find another fun thing to do." I rise to my feet and offer Erik a hand.

We fool around a little. Then I scale the mini climbing wall, making Erik laugh when I say, "Take this, George and Alex!" Then I almost get stuck inside the slide, and Erik pulls me by the leg, which results in me falling on him, both of us rolling ungracefully on the rubbery floor. He chases me, and we play hide and seek. The last time he catches me, he tickles me until I'm crying with laughter. I ask for a break, and we kiss with burning passion in the middle of the dark playground, his hands on my waist, my arms around his neck.

"I miss having this much fun," I say, the butterflies in my stomach as active as the endorphins running through my veins, making me pulsate with life and passion.

"Having fun together is what it's all about, right?" Erik kisses me under the ear, and as I'm feeling goose bumps, his words sink in, triggering an unexpected but welcome chain of thoughts.

"Yes, that's what it's all about!"

"What?" He looks at me, confused.

"Love Birds." I'm grinning, overflowing with excitement. I can't believe I missed that.

"I'm lost. Please explain."

"Erik." I hold his face with both my hands. "You were right when you said it wasn't dark here but inspiring . I think I solved our problem with the game."

"Our lack of money, time, and a crew the size of Scorpio Games?"

I smile. "No. The concept itself. ‘Having fun together is what it's all about,'" I quote Erik back to him. "We knew this was our point with the app. Getting people to have fun together before going on a date." He nods, showing that he is following. "But what if the playing field, where all the birds are, was a playground?"

He thinks about it for a second, and then our minds connect and become one.

"Yes! That can work. Then the multiplayer matches and private mini games are attractions in the playground."

"Exactly! It's about feeling the way you feel when you are a child. You go to a playground to meet others, play, and make friends. Some might become best friends. Some might even get married later in life."

I sense his excitement. The shadows have left his face. He is fully replenished again, his eyes sparkling.

"All players start as anonymous birds," he says. "And as you win with your team, you learn something new about the other team members."

"Yes," I say enthusiastically. "If we're talking about a playground, the challenges can be inspired by classic children's outdoor games, like marbles, Capture the Flag..."

Erik claps. "Perfect!"

We laugh, now springing, dancing, climbing, and balancing on bars while brainstorming. We talk about the two-player mini games—tic-tac-toe, chess, checkers—and monetization. Everything clicks together like a puzzle we can finally assemble. It's sublime.

"We'll simulate the stages of a real relationship and give people the chance to fall for someone before dating them," I say, walking on a wooden wave and jumping into Erik's arms when I reach the end.

"You're a genius, Sol." He spins me in his arms before putting me down.

" We are geniuses together."

Erik kisses me, and I'm so happy, I could fly.

Now we just have to make the dream come true.