Fragile as the World

Vera and João are teenagers who fall in love, trying to balance school, family expectations, and the pull of their own desires. The world around them feels defined by others rather than by what they feel for each other. Their time together becomes fragile, making every moment feel precious and rare.

They begin with a playful plan to step outside the ordinary, a game that slowly deepens into something sacred. They withdraw from everything familiar and vow never to be separated, sealing their pact with whispered promises. The forest becomes their retreat, offering shelter and a sense of belonging that the outside world cannot provide.

In the forest, they cut ties with daily routines and obligations, choosing each other over the rest of life. The trees and quiet become witnesses to their commitment, and their bond grows into a shared shelter against judgment. Their pact feels timeless as they lie in the rustling shade, protected by nature.

Vera opens up about a memory she has never fully shared with her family—a moment when she felt trapped and prayed to Mother Nature to free her. She recalls a giant rock moving and a hidden path appearing, as if the forest itself answered her plea. João listens with quiet conviction, his faith in her story strengthening their connection.

João accepts Vera's memory as truth, and his belief deepens their bond as they lean into the mystery together. The sense that forces beyond them are guiding their fate grows stronger. They feel protected by the forest and the shared faith in each other.

Their closeness begins to feel less like romance and more like an elemental unity, where human emotion seems to echo the forest's pulse. They move as one, letting the natural world witness their vows. The line between self and terrain blurs, reinforcing their devotion.

Vera's health begins to fail, casting a pall over their radiant pact. The forest sanctuary cannot shield her from the fragility of the body, forcing a painful awareness of mortality. João's care and resolve grow as he faces the looming cost of keeping their vow.

Faced with Vera's deteriorating condition, João must choose: uphold their vow to stay together at all costs or seek help to save the one he loves. The choice tests the limits of their pact and the practical demands of life outside the woods. He weighs love against an unbearable sacrifice, knowing the decision could fracture their bond.

They carry Vera in their arms and drift on a boat, a vivid image of their fragile, suspended world. Time seems to slow as the landscape blurs, making their love feel suspended between life and non-life. The act of moving through water becomes a metaphor for moving beyond the bounds of ordinary existence.

As years pass, a child glimpses them and wonders if they are alive or gone. The sight lingers in the mind of the observer, while adults treat it as a dreamlike mystery. The couple's fate remains something the world can only remember in fragmentary, poetic terms.

The child’s mother is told of the sight, and her response is cryptic—she tells the child to go back to sleep. The truth of Vera and João’s fate sits beyond comprehension, kept alive only as an indistinct memory. The world moves on, but the bond lingers as a question rather than a conclusion.

The film closes with a lingering sense of wonder about love, nature, and endurance, inviting viewers to interpret whether some bonds persist beyond time even when the world cannot confirm them. It leaves space for ambiguity, allowing personal reflections on what it means to choose between love and practical life. The final image resonates as a quiet meditation rather than a definitive ending.