The Mirror of Desire Mateus never thought he'd find pleasure in sharing. On the contrary, he always believed that love required possession, exclusivity, the security of being the only one. But there was something burning inside him, a quiet flame that only began to grow when he noticed the sparkle in Laura's eyes. She had a gift: she walked among men like someone lighting candles in the dark. It wasn't just beauty—it was presence. The way she tilted her head, the way she laughed softly, the way her hair fell over her shoulder. Mateus often watched from afar. He saw how eyes followed her. And, silently, he felt a strange shiver: a mixture of pride and jealousy. At first, he tried to suppress it. But desire wouldn't be silenced. It was like a secret whispered in his ear, a fantasy that grew stronger each night Laura described to him, without guile, how she'd been courted, observed, desired. It was one Saturday night that everything changed. They were in a discreet bar, the music low, the lights dim. Laura wore a red dress that seemed made of sin. A man approached, tall and self-assured, and struck up a conversation. Mateus watched, his heart racing, his breath held. Any other husband would have stood up, intervened, staked his claim. But Mateus remained silent. He watched. The stranger's hand lightly touched Laura's arm. She didn't flinch. She laughed, leaning in to better hear what he was saying. The scene was simple, almost banal. But for Mateus, every detail became an intimate spectacle. Laura's knowing gaze, which occasionally met his. The invisible shiver that ran through her skin. The tension that settled in the air, like taut strings ready to vibrate. In that instant, Mateus understood: it wasn't just voyeurism. It was the sensation of being exposed, of allowing his fortitude to be invaded, of savoring vulnerability. It was the pleasure of seeing his wife celebrated by others, of witnessing her freedom as if it were a reflection of his own desire. The bar became a secret stage. Laura, the lead actress. The stranger, an unexpected guest. And Mateus, the privileged audience who, deep down, was also part of the scene. When they returned home, the tension still vibrated between them. No words needed to be spoken. Laura placed her hand on her husband's chest, feeling her heart pound, and whispered, "You liked seeing me like this, didn't you?" Mateus didn't answer. He simply closed his eyes, surrendered. And in that silence, he discovered that pleasure could arise not from possession, but from surrender.