They spent thirtyfive years together, almost half a lifeJorge and Inês. Their romance began like the oldfashioned stories: dancing in the rain, talking until dawn, dreaming of a house with a garden. Inês was petite, fragile, quiet, yet possessed an inner steel. Jorge was ambitious, eyes alight, always seeking more.
They endured poverty, debt, city moves, bereavements. When Jorge built his business from scratch, it was Inês who kept everything afloathome, children, bills, illnesses. When success finally arrived, bringing comfort and stability, Jorge fell in love with the new, flirtatious secretary who laughed at his jokes and brushed his arm a little longer.
He acted swiftly. He hired expensive lawyers to claim the housethe one they had built brick by brick, renovated together, where Inês had planted roses and sewn pillowcases. The home that had once been their shared dream.
The court awarded the house to Jorge. Inês was given two months to vacate, but she left in two days. No tears, no drama. Silent. She packed, called a moving company, and as a parting gesture scattered cooked cod leftovers across the curtains, the windowsills, the ventilationremnants of the farewell dinner she had prepared for herself at the empty table.
Jorges new lover moved into the dream house a few days later. Everything seemed perfect: light, space, fireplace, balcony. Within twentyfour hours a putrid stench filled the walls. No cleaning, incense, or renovation could erase it.
The odor grew stronger. They scrubbed floors, replaced carpets, opened windows, bought air purifiersnothing helped. Friends stopped visiting; no one could tolerate the smell.
Jorge tried to sell. Rumors spread through the village. Prospective buyers fled after ten minutes. Realtors refused to cooperate. The house became a curse.
The couple had taken a heavy loan for a new home; the money ran out. Then Inês called:
How are things, Jorge?
Terrible, he admitted, broken. The house wont sell. Were ruined.
How odd, she replied calmly. I miss that house. Would you sell it to me for say, ten percent of the price?
Jorge almost wept with relief. He accepted immediately. Ten percent? Anything to escape the nightmare.
The next day Inês arrived with a notary. Papers were signed in minutes. The couple moved to the new place. She entered the empty house, inhaled deeplyand smiled for the first time in years.
But the story didnt end there.
The couple decided to take everything from the old home: furniture, curtains, even the curtain rods! Especially the rods. Jorge wouldnt leave anything for his exwife. He dismantled them himself and, with them, took the source of the odor.
In the new house the smell appeared the following morning.
Inês had expected it. She never called again.
Now she lives in her home surrounded by silence, clean walls, and blooming roses, while Jorge remains trapped in a selfinflicted curseborn of betrayal, pride, and forgetting who stood by him when he had nothing.
