Il prit la main de Marisol et l’emmena dans la chambre, les yeux pleins d’anticipation. Elle, nerveuse, se força à sourire, craignant de le décevoir.
L’atmosphère est devenue intime.
Don Tomás lui chuchota des caresses quand soudain, son visage se contracta, sa respiration fut laborieuse.
Il lâcha la main de Marisol, posa l’autre sur sa poitrine et tomba lourdement sur le lit.
« Don Tomás ! Qu’est-ce qui ne va pas chez lui ? s’écria Marisol, les yeux écarquillés de terreur.
She tried to hold him, but his body was already rigid, drenched in sweat.
A hoarse moan escaped his throat, shaking the young woman.
The image of the liquor he had drunk minutes before flashed through her mind: what he had trusted to “rejuvenate” him had turned into a silent poison.
Desperate, Marisol called for help. Don Tomás’s daughters and other relatives burst into the room, finding the old man motionless and the young bride crying, lost in the confusion.
That night was a chaos of screams, running, and crying.
They took Don Tomás to the hospital, but the doctors could only confirm the worst: he had suffered a sudden heart attack due to exertion and age.
The news spread throughout the town.
People, already murmuring about the unequal marriage, now spoke louder.
Some felt sorry for Marisol, others mocked:
“He didn’t even manage to give her a son… fate is just.”
Marisol remained silent, her gaze lost.
She remembered his words: “I will do my duty.” But that duty never began; it all ended in a tragedy no one had foreseen.
After the funeral, the money received from the wedding was enough to pay her family’s debts and her brother’s treatment.
But in return, Marisol faced a cruel fate: a widow at twenty, forever marked as “Don Tomás’s second wife.”
Leur nuit de noces, qui devait être le début de fiançailles remplies de pressions et d’attentes, a fini par devenir la dernière nuit de la vie d’un homme… et le début de la lourde croix qu’une jeune femme devrait porter pour le reste de ses jours.
