Don Tomás, 70, was a wealthy farmer in a rural town in Oaxaca. He had had his first wife, Doña Rosa, who died ten years earlier, leaving him three married daughters. Despite his advanced age, Don Tomás still dreamed of having a son who would carry on his last name and continue the family line, a wish that remained unfulfilled for him.

So she decided to remarry. Her choice was Marisol, a 20-year-old daughter of a poor family from the same town. Marisol was beautiful and fresh as spring, but poverty had hit her hard. Her parents, needing money to pay for their youngest son’s medical treatment, agreed to give her up in exchange for a large sum of money.
Although she didn’t want to, Marisol agreed to the marriage out of love for her family. On the eve of the wedding, with tears in her eyes, she told her mother:
“I just hope he treats me well… I will do my duty.”

The wedding was simple but striking, because Don Tomás wanted the entire town to know he was still “strong” and ready to father a child. The neighbors murmured and criticized the large age difference, but he didn’t care. He smiled with satisfaction, enthusiastically preparing for the wedding night, confident that Marisol would soon be pregnant. Although resigned, she tried to appear happy to fulfill her role.

The wedding night arrived. Don Tomás, elegantly dressed, drank some medicinal liquor that he believed would make him feel young again. He took Marisol’s hand and led her to the bedroom, his eyes full of anticipation. She, nervous, forced a smile, afraid of disappointing him.

The atmosphere became intimate. Don Tomás was whispering endearments to her when suddenly, his face contorted, his breathing labored. He let go of Marisol’s hand, brought the other to his chest, and fell heavily onto the bed.

—“Don Tomás! What’s wrong with you?” Marisol cried, her eyes full of terror.

She tried to hold him, but his body was already stiff, drenched in sweat. A hoarse moan escaped his throat, making the young woman shudder.

The image of the liquor he had drunk minutes before flashed through his mind: what he had relied on 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 chaotic night of screaming, running, and crying. They took Don Tomás to the hospital, but the doctors could only confirm the worst: he had suffered a massive heart attack due to exertion and age.

The news spread throughout the town. People, who had already been murmuring about the unequal marriage, now spoke even louder. Some felt sorry for Marisol, others mocked:
“She didn’t even manage to give him a son… fate is fair.”

Marisol remained silent, her gaze lost in thought. 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.”

The wedding night, which was supposed to be the beginning of a commitment filled with pressure and expectations, ended up becoming the  last night of a man’s life … and the beginning of the heavy cross a young woman would have to carry for the rest of her days.