Raquel Tavares invites us into a classic Portuguese tale of saudade wrapped in bold self-respect. The narrator begins by reminiscing about a once “almost perfect” love, painted with traditional images of romance – a flirtatious smile and a rose pinned to the chest. Yet that charming exterior can’t hide how inauthentic her partner has become. Tired of lonely evenings and unspoken heartaches, she decides to reclaim her own story. In a cinematic moment, she dresses up, fixes a ribbon in her hair, and faces the mirror with fresh confidence.
The chorus is a dramatic mic-drop: “Faz de conta que morri, e não me esperes de volta” (“Pretend I died, and don’t wait for me to come back”). It blends fado’s bittersweet longing with a modern message of empowerment. Instead of drowning in endless waiting, she leaves a note on the door and walks away, choosing self-worth over empty promises. The result is a song that feels both mournful and liberating, reminding learners that sometimes the bravest way to love is to let go.