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I shook so many hands and kissed so many cheeks that I overlooked the retreat of my prometido. Tears spilled over my face when I saw Isaac's father. He didn't approach me, just nodded before hurrying off. Ana and her sister came to me, their faces tight with grief.
Grief for the death a daughter, a niece.
Thoughts of my own daughter came, unbidden by reason. Her mother had told her we should be friends, and I killed her.
I couldn't bear the weight of it any longer. Somehow I was mourning the end of something that had never been born. I nodded to them before clumsily turning the chair around, and I escaped.
In the dimly lit corridor, shadows danced across Antonio's face as he leaned against an ornate pillar, his arms folded across his chest. The crowd's murmur still lingered in my ears, their shock and whispers echoing through the grand hall. But here, away from prying eyes and eager gossip, we had a moment to breathe—and to confront the reality of the Canciller's announcement.
"Antonio," I began, my voice quivering with the anger which simmered under my bones. “Two weeks? Has the date been finalized?”
He exhaled, his eyes distant and clouded with conflicting emotions. “Yes, Carmen. It was sent to you for approval. When you didn't respond, we decided to move forward."
"That was wrong." I ran my hands over my wheels, my voice echoing off the marble floor, feeling the weight of the decision I was forced to make. "I never wanted to marry anyone, you knew that. And now, to be ordered into marriage again, with the addition of a forced pregnancy… This is wrong. You know it. We're being used as pawns in someone else's game." I didn’t tell him how scared I was of the future.
I couldn’t ruin someone else.
“I know you don't trust me, but I told you my thoughts. I protected you because I want you. I did this for both of us.” Antonio’s jaw clenched tightly. He looked hurt. Then he held up a hand. “You know what? We are both tired. I think it’s time to go back home. We’ll discuss this later.”
I rolled alongside him.
Chapter34
No es lo Mismo interpretar un papel que convertirse en el personaje
The days passed faster than I could count, like sand slipping through my fingers. Now, I stood in the costureras shop, surrounded by the lingering scent of jasmine and cedar wood from candles that burned on every surface.
The golden sunlight filtered through the dusty windows of the workspace, glinting off a sea of silks and satins. I grimaced and tried to keep my weight off the prosthetic.
I gazed at my reflection in the full-length mirror, a stranger staring back at me—a bride-to-be.
I stood in the center of the room. Adalaida Morales circled me like a hawk, her sharp eyes scanning every inch of my body as if searching for flaws.
"Spin around," Adalaida ordered, her eyes glittering with excitement.
I did as she said, feeling like a doll in a child's playroom. I was nothing more than an object to be dressed up and paraded around for their amusement. She made notes to the costurera as I hobbled in a circle on my prosthetic.
Adalaida Morales, my future mother-in-law, and my old maid, Isolda, flanked me on either side, their eyes fixated on the satin gown that clung to my curves. Adalaida's lips pursed in approval while Isolda just stared blankly ahead.
"Beautiful," Adalaida breathed, and I couldn't tell if she was referring to the dress or me.
"Indeed," Isolda agreed, her eyes roving over me with an appraising gaze. "It fits you well."
I bit back a retort, knowing that it wouldn't do me any good. Instead, I focused on the details of the dress, trying to distract myself from the growing sense of dread in my stomach.
The strapless bodice was fitted, hugging my curves in a way that made me feel exposed. The skirt flared out around me in a cloud of silk and lace, hiding any imperfections.
"Can we be done here?" I asked finally, unable to bear the suffocating silence any longer.
"Of course," Adalaida said briskly, signaling for the costurera to come and help me out of the gown. "We have much to do before the day after tomorrow."
"Right," I murmured.
The gown was more beautiful than I could have imagined, hugging my figure in all the right places. Yet I still felt like I was playing a part in someone else's fantasy.
Señora Morales clasped her hands together, tears brimming in her eyes. "I truly can't believe how well the costurera did. You look like a goddess. Antonio will not be able to take his eyes off you."
I glanced at my reflection again, golden silk gripping my waist before rippling to the ground in voluptuous waves. The girl staring back at me seemed a stranger—I did not understand her. She was gaunt with guilt, and golden scars graced her shoulders. But Señora Morales looked at me joyfully, and I thought of Antonio waiting for me at the end of the aisle.
