“Don’t look at my wet shirt,” the rich blonde said. “But the gardener had already seen everything. And don’t look at my wet shirt.” Luciana’s voice came out broken, desperate. The water kept falling on her, soaking her completely. The white fabric of her blouse had become transparent, sticking to her skin like a second layer that hid nothing. 

The guests had formed a circle around her, whispering. Some already held their phones aloft. “I already looked,” he replied, his voice deep and calm, “but I only saw someone who needed help.” Tomás took off his denim jacket in one swift motion and wrapped it around her. His hands brushed Luciana’s shoulders as he adjusted the fabric over her. 

That touch lasted barely a second, but something stirred in her stomach. “Don’t let them take your picture,” he whispered, positioning himself between her and the onlookers. “Walk toward the house, I’ll cover you.” Luciana nodded, unable to speak. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. The discreet laughter of the society women cut through the garden like knives. 

“Poor Luciana,” someone murmured. “What a sight!” Tomás led her toward the mansion’s entrance, his body blocking the cameras. His jacket smelled of earth and something else—of man, of honest work. Luciana clung to it like a lifeline. “Thank you,” she managed to say when they reached the door. He didn’t reply, only nodded and took a step back, returning to the chaos of the garden where water continued to gush from the runaway irrigation system. Luciana ran upstairs. Her shoes left wet footprints on the marble floor. 

Italian. She heard her mother’s voice downstairs doing damage control, laughing that fake laugh she used when something upset her. She locked herself in her room and slumped against the door. Her denim jacket still covered her shoulders. She took it off slowly, looking at it. It was old, worn at the elbows, so different from everything else around her in that house. 

Someone knocked on the door. Luciana opened it. Her mother, of course. “Or, give me a minute, Mom. Open it now.” Luciana sighed and turned the handle. Berenice Palacios entered like a whirlwind of expensive perfume and barely contained indignation. “200 people,” she said without even looking at her. “200 people saw that mess. It wasn’t my fault.” 

The system. I don’t care whose fault it was. Berenice finally looked at her. Her eyes scanning the soaked blouse. Go take a bath. Change. Come down in half an hour as if nothing happened. Mom, half an hour. Luciana, your image is already compromised enough. Don’t make it worse by hiding. 

The door slammed shut. Luciana was alone again. She went to the window overlooking the garden. Below, she saw Tomás working on the irrigation system. It was already dark, but he was still there, illuminated by the garden lights, fixing the mess. The other staff had left. The guests had departed, but he remained. Her phone vibrated. 

Uh, Sebastian, are you okay? I heard what happened. I’m so sorry, love. We’ll talk tomorrow. I have a business dinner. Luciana dropped her phone on the bed. He hadn’t even called. Just one text after a year and a half of dating. Just one text. She showered mechanically, letting the hot water wash away the shame, but she couldn’t stop thinking about those hands adjusting the jacket on her shoulders. 

In that voice telling her that he had only seen someone who needed help. No one else had helped, only him. She came down exactly half an hour later with a dry dress and her hair perfectly styled. Her mother intercepted her in the hallway. Much better. I’ve managed to control the damage. I told everyone it was a funny accident, nothing more. It was a funny accident. Don’t be naive. 

Berenice lowered her voice. Carolina Méndez already asked me if you were drinking. Beatriz hinted that you’d gained weight. You need to be more careful. Luciana felt something break inside her. It wasn’t the first time. It had been breaking for four years, ever since she returned from Europe with her botany degree, which no one had allowed her to use. “I’m going to get some air,” she murmured. “Don’t be long.” 

“Fernando wants to talk to you.” Her father wanted to talk. That was never a good sign. Luciana went out into the garden through the back door. The cold December air hit her face. She walked along the stone paths, away from the lights of the house. She found him putting his tools away in the small shed. He still wasn’t wearing a jacket. 

“Here,” she said, extending the garment. “Thank you for lending it to me.” Tomás looked up. His eyes were dark, unreadable in the dim light. “There’s nothing to thank me for.” “Yes, there is. You were the only one who stopped, unsure how to finish. The only one who helped me.” He took the jacket, his fingers brushing against it for a second. “Anyone would have. But they didn’t.” 

Luciana crossed her arms, feeling the cold. “Now, why did you do it?” Tomás looked directly at her. There was something in that gaze that made her feel truly seen. “Not as the daughter of the palaces, not as Sebastián Aguirre’s fiancée, just as Luciana, because you needed help,” he said simply. “It’s no more complicated than that.” 

She opened her mouth to reply, but a voice echoed through the garden. “Luciana, your father is waiting for you.” It was Verenice, standing on the terrace like a statue of disapproval. Luciana felt the weight of that gaze upon her. Upon both of them. She turned quickly to Tomás. “Thank you again.” She walked back to the house, conscious of every step, every breath. 

When she reached the terrace, her mother grabbed her arm more tightly than necessary. “What were you doing there with the gardener, returning his jacket? You could have asked any employee to do it.” Luciana didn’t answer. She followed her mother to her father’s studio. 

Fernando Palacios sat behind his mahogany desk, a glass of whiskey in his hand, a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sit down, daughter.” She obeyed. “Sastián spoke with me today,” Fernando said. “He wants to formally ask for your hand in marriage. On New Year’s Day.” Luciana’s stomach sank. “New Year’s Day, Dad. That’s in three weeks. It’s the perfect time. You’ve been together long enough.” Fernando took a sip of his whiskey. 

He’s a good man, from a good family. They’ll make an excellent couple. Berenice approached, placing a hand on Luciana’s shoulder. “It’s for the best, dear.” Luciana looked at her parents. She had truly seen them for the first time in a long time. She saw the determination in their faces, the certainty that they knew what was best for her. 

She opened her mouth to protest, but the words wouldn’t come out; she just nodded. That night, from her window, she saw the light on in the small garden shed and wondered what the gardener, who had seen everything, was thinking. Luciana washed the jacket herself at 3 a.m. in the mansion’s laundry room while everyone was asleep. 

She ironed it, removed a dirt stain from the collar, and sewed on a button that was about to fall off. She didn’t know why she was doing it, or perhaps she did know and didn’t want to admit it. She waited in the garden the next morning. It was 7:00 a.m. The cold air chilled her to the bone, but she didn’t move from the stone bench. 

Tomás arrived on time as always. He stopped when he saw her. “Miss Palacios. Luciana,” she corrected, standing up, “and I need to return this to you.” She held out the jacket. He took it slowly, noticing the details. “You washed it, you got it dirty because of me. It was my job to help you.” Luciana crossed her arms. “Your job includes being kind.” Tomás gave a small smile. 

It was the first time she’d seen him smile. That’s free for me. Silence fell between them. It wasn’t awkward, it was something else. “How long have you worked here?” she asked. “14 months. We’d never spoken. You were never here,” he replied. “And when you were here, there were always people around.” 

Luciana knew what he meant. Sebastián, her mother, the friends who came to visit. “There’s no one here now. There’s no one here now,” Tomás repeated. They looked at each other. There was something in those dark eyes that Luciana couldn’t decipher. “I have to work,” he finally said. “Sure, yes, sorry for keeping you.” Luciana walked back to the house. 

She felt his gaze on her back. That afternoon she invented an excuse to be in the garden. She brought a book. She sat on the terrace with a cup of coffee. She didn’t read a single page. Tomás was working, pruning the winter rose bushes. His movements were precise, careful. There was something almost hypnotic about the way his hands handled the shears. 

“One Year of Solitude,” he asked without turning around. Luciana lowered the book. How? Because of the cover. Now he looked at it. It’s a good book. Have you read it? Tomás nodded, returning to the rose bushes. Life isn’t what one lived, but what one remembers. And how does one remember it? To recount it. Luciana felt something stir in her chest. No one in her circle read García Márquez. 

No one quoted literature like that from memory, as if the words meant something. Do you like to read when I have time? And do you have time? Tomás shrugged. I make time. The following days, Luciana found more reasons to be in the garden. She checked the flowers, walked along the paths, read on different benches. They always ended up talking. 

She discovered that Tomás knew more about literature than she did, that he had opinions about architecture, about politics, about the world, that he truly listened when she spoke. “I studied botany in London,” she told him one afternoon. Four years. “And now nothing.” Luciana plucked a withered petal. My family thought it was an elegant way to pass the time before I got married. 

And what were you thinking? No one had ever asked her that before. I was thinking, uh, she stopped. I was thinking I was going to work, do something with it, but I came back four years ago and everything’s still the same. Why did you come back? Because my family needed me here. It sounded bitter even to her. Or so they said. 

Tomás stopped working and looked her straight in the eye. “Does this life make you happy, or does it just make you look good?” The question landed like a stone in still water. Luciana opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her eyes felt like they were burning. She blinked rapidly. “I have to go inside,” she murmured, getting up. That night she couldn’t sleep. The question echoed in her head over and over. Happy, or just looking good? 

Happy or looking good. Sebastián returned from his business trip on Thursday. He went straight to the mansion without warning. Luciana was in the garden. Of course. There you are, he said, giving her a light kiss on the cheek. What are you doing out here? It’s cold. I like the garden. Mmm. Sebastián didn’t even look at the flowers. Have you seen the ring I chose? I sent a picture to your mom. No, I haven’t seen it. It’s perfect. 

Three carats. Princess cut. He smiled that smile Luciana had seen a thousand times. They’re going to be green with envy at the club. Tomás appeared at that moment carrying tools. He stopped when he saw them. “Sir,” he greeted with a nod. Sebastián didn’t even turn around. “The grass is too long,” he said as if Tomás weren’t a person. “Fix it. It’s already scheduled for tomorrow, sir. Do it today.” 

I have a dinner party here on Saturday. Tomás clenched his jaw. Luciana noticed. Yes, sir. Sebastián went on about the ring, the party, the guests. She didn’t notice when Tomás walked away, but Luciana saw the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands briefly clenched into fists before unclenching. “Are you listening to me?” Sebastián asked. 

“Yes, the ring, three carats, four. See? You weren’t paying attention.” He laughed. “What is it about this garden that has you so distracted?” “Everything,” Luciana thought. “Absolutely everything.” “Nothing,” she said aloud. “I just like being here.” That afternoon, after Sebastián left, Luciana found Tomás fixing the fountain in the central garden. 

Everyone said it needed a complete replacement, that it would cost thousands of dollars. He was up to his elbows in the mechanism, covered in rust and water. “What are you doing?” “Fixing it,” he answered without looking up. They said it was beyond repair. They were wrong. Luciana approached, fascinated. She watched him work for 20 minutes. 

His hands moved with absolute mastery. He understood the mechanism as if he had designed it himself. “Where did you learn that?” Tomás hesitated before answering. “I studied engineering a long time ago.” “You studied?” Luciana was speechless. “Why didn’t you finish it?” That was all she said. She adjusted something inside, and the fountain sprang to life. 

The water began to flow perfectly without the strange noise it had made for months. Done. He wiped his hands on a rag. Luciana was still looking at him as if she were seeing him for the first time. You’re an engineer. Almost an engineer. He stood up. I didn’t finish. But you could do anything. Why are you working in gardens? He looked her straight in the eyes. 

Honest work has nothing to be ashamed of, Luciana. It was the first time he’d said her name. It sounded different in his voice, real. I didn’t mean that. Yes, you did. He didn’t sound angry, just tired. Everyone says it differently, but everyone says it. He walked away before she could reply. 

Luciana stood by the fountain, listening to the water fall, perfectly arranged by the hands of a man whom her world considered invisible. Berenice found her there half an hour later, back in the garden. “I like being here, I can tell.” Her mother approached, lowering her voice. “Be careful, Luciana.” “Careful about what?” “About being too familiar with the staff.” Berenice chose each word carefully. 

People talk. We don’t want them to talk. Luciana felt anger rise in her throat. She was just looking at the fountain. Hmm. Berenice didn’t seem convinced. Sebastián is coming for dinner on Saturday. Wear the blue dress. He likes that one. She left without waiting for a reply. That night Luciana dreamed of the garden, of conversations in the sun, of hands covered in dirt mending broken things. 

She woke up feeling more rested than she had in months and realized something that terrified her. She was happier in 10 minutes talking to the gardener than she had been in 18 months with her fiancé. Christmas dinner at the Aguirres’ house was exactly what Luciana had expected: perfect, cold, and endless. Sebastián got up halfway through dinner. His wine glass clinked against the glass. 

“I want to make an announcement,” he said, smiling at the entire table. Luciana felt her stomach sink. “I’ve asked Fernando for permission to propose to Luciana on New Year’s Day.” Applause, shouts of congratulations. Sebastián’s mother wiped away tears that looked rehearsed. Fernando raised his glass. 

It will be an honor to unite our families. Everyone toasted. Luciana mechanically raised her glass. The wine tasted metallic. “Aren’t you excited?” whispered Sebastián’s cousin beside her. “It’s the game of the year.” A game as if it were a business deal. Luciana smiled and nodded because that was what was expected of her. 

That night, in the car on the way back, Berenice wouldn’t stop talking. The party will be in the garden. Fairy lights everywhere, a live band, fireworks at midnight. “Sounds beautiful,” Luciana lied. 200 guests, maybe more. Berenice checked her phone. We have to start the dress fittings next week. 

Is there a dress yet? Of course, I chose it months ago. Luciana looked out the window. The lights of Bogotá passed by, blurred. And if I say no? The car fell silent. Sorry, Verenice asked. Nothing, forget it. But her mother didn’t forget. She looked at her with those eyes that saw too much. 

Luciana, is there anything I should know? No, Mom, I’m just tired. They arrived home. Luciana slipped away to her room before her mother could question her any further. She looked out the window. The shed light was on. It was always on. The next day, Luciana went down to the garden early. Tomás was trimming the hedges. “Is your sister a nurse?” she asked without saying hello. He turned around, surprised. 

Good morning to you too. Excuse me. Good morning. Luciana approached. But yes, right? Your sister. Yes, Paula. She works at the Samaritan Hospital. She must be proud of you. Tomás put down the scissors. Why do you say that? Because you supported her. You helped her. That’s Luciana. She searched for the words. That’s true love. 

That’s what family does, not all of them. She thought of her parents choosing her engagement dress without asking her. Some people just decide for you. Tomás studied her silently. “What was your thesis about in London?” The question caught her off guard. “Medicinal plants of the Colombian highlands.” She smiled half-heartedly. “I spent months researching. I wrote 200 pages. Nobody has read them. I would read them.” 

Something tightened in Luciana’s chest. “Really, if you let me,” they looked at each other. The world shrank to that garden, to that moment. “The secret to a good old age is nothing more than an honest pact with solitude,” Luciana recited softly. “Love in the Time of Cholera,” Tomás finished. “But you’re not old, and you shouldn’t be alone. I’m surrounded by people all the time.” 

That doesn’t mean you’re not alone. Luciana felt her eyes burn. She blinked rapidly. I have to go inside. She turned away before he could see the tears. Sunday’s family dinner was a battlefield disguised as a Christmas celebration. The entire Palacios family was there. Aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents—30 people around a table that was far too big. Cousin Mariana, two years younger than Luciana, couldn’t stop talking. 

Then Catalina told me she saw you talking to the gardener. She laughed. “Do you like chatting with the staff? How charitable of you.” Luciana’s fork stopped halfway. “It’s not charity, it’s basic courtesy.” “Oh, don’t get angry.” Mariana took a sip of wine. “It’s nice of you to be friendly with them, but you don’t want people thinking strange things.” “What strange things?” “Well, you know.” 

Mariana lowered her voice. “What’s it to you?” The table fell silent. Everyone stared. Luciana carefully placed her fork down. “His name is Tomás. He has a name. He’s educated. He’s more intelligent than half the men in this room.” “Luciana,” her father warned. “What, Dad? Are we going to pretend it isn’t true?” She glanced around the table. 

You all treat him like he’s invisible, like he’s worthless, because he works with his hands. That’s enough, Fernando said. But Luciana couldn’t stop. She fixed the fountain you were going to replace. She reads García Márquez. She studied engineering, but nobody asks her anything because it’s easier to assume she’s a nobody. 

Berenice stood up. Luciana to the kitchen. Now Luciana obeyed. Her mother followed, slamming the door behind her. “What do you think you’re doing? Telling the truth. The truth.” Berenice laughed humorlessly. “Do you know what the truth is? That you’re getting married in two months, that you have a perfect life waiting for you, and that you’re ruining it all because of… a gardener, a human being. Don’t be dramatic.” “I’m not being dramatic.” 

I’m being honest for the first time in years. Berenice took a deep breath. I know what you’re going through. Pre-wedding jitters. It’s normal. It’s not jitters, Mom. Then what is it? Luciana didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t tell her mother that every conversation with Tomás made her feel more alive than a whole year with Sebastián. 

“Go back to the table,” Verenice ordered. “Apologize to your cousin and forget about this tantrum.” Luciana returned, apologized, smiled, but she didn’t forget anything. Sebastián arrived after dinner and found her in the garden. “Your mother told me what happened.” “Of course she told you.” “What’s going on, Luciana?” He looked genuinely confused. 

People are starting to talk. Talk about what? The gardener. About you spending so much time out here. Luciana really looked at him. She saw a handsome, successful man from a good family. She saw the future everyone expected for her and felt nothing. I just like the garden. It looks bad. Sebastian came closer. 

I don’t care if you’re nice to the staff, but there are limits. Limits. Yes, limits. He took her hands. You’re Luciana Palacios. You’re going to be Luciana Aguirre. That means something. It means I can’t talk to certain people. It means you have to watch appearances. There it was. The naked truth. Appearances. 

Not what he felt, not what he wanted, just how he looked. “I understand,” she said softly. Sebastian smiled with relief. “I knew you’d understand. You’re smart.” He kissed her forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow. We need to look at the menu for the party.” He left whistling. Luciana was left alone in the garden. She looked toward the shed. The light was on. 

What was Tomás doing in there? Was he reading, thinking, dreaming? Did he ever think of her the way she thought of him? She stayed outside until the cold forced her inside. She didn’t sleep that night. She stared at the ceiling, counting the days until New Year’s, until her life would be sealed forever. The storm arrived without warning. In a second, the sky was gray. 

The next day, a deluge fell on Bogotá. Luciana was in the garden when it started. She should have run home. She didn’t. She walked toward the greenhouse. She knew Tomás would be there. He always worked there on Wednesdays. The rain soaked her in seconds. Her hair stuck to her face. Her clothes clung to her skin. She went into the greenhouse and closed the door. 

The sound of the rain against the window was deafening. Tomás was repotting orchids. He turned when he heard her come in. “Luciana, hi.” They looked at each other. She was dripping onto the cement floor. “You’re soaked.” “It seems to be my destiny.” She laughed, swishing water through her hair. “I always end up wet around you.” Tomás didn’t smile. “You’re not worried about getting wet?” 

It was the same question from weeks ago, but now it sounded different, more intimate. “I’m not worried about anything anymore,” she answered. It wasn’t true; she was worried about everything. But in that moment, with the rain falling and just the two of them in that space of glass and plants, it felt like the truth. Tomás handed her an old towel he used for cleaning tools. “Thank you,” she said, drying her face. Her hands. 

It didn’t help much. “You should go to the house.” “I don’t want to go to the house, Luciana. I don’t.” He said it more forcefully. “There are only plans and conversations about dresses and people telling me how I should feel.” Tomás put down the shovel he was holding. “And how you should feel. Excited, happy, grateful.” 

Luciana sat on a wooden bench as if this were the best thing that could have happened to her. And it isn’t. I don’t know. She hugged herself. You’re supposed to know. Tomás approached slowly. He sat down next to her, leaving space between them. My mom used to say that when it’s the right thing to do, you don’t have to convince yourself. He looked at the rain. You just know. Your mom regretted it as soon as she said it. 

He never talked about his family. Yes, she’s gone now. I’m sorry, it was a long time ago. Luciana wanted to ask more, but something in his voice told her it wasn’t the right time. Sebastián is proposing to me in five days, he said instead, at the New Year’s party in front of everyone. I know, the whole staff knows. And what do you think? Tomás turned to look at her. His eyes were dark and impossible to read. It doesn’t matter what I think, it matters to me. 

The silence was filled with the sound of rain. Enormous drops pounded against the glass like drums. “I think,” Tomás chose his words carefully. “I think you deserve to be happy, not just look happy. To be happy. What’s the difference? One you feel here,” he touched his chest. “The other you act out here,” he touched his face. 

Luciana felt something break inside her. I don’t know if I’ve ever truly been happy. So why do you keep going? It was the question no one dared ask her, not even herself, because it’s what’s expected, because it’s the life I was given, because it stopped, because I’m afraid. Of what? Of disappointing everyone, of not being enough if I’m not the Luciana Palacios everyone knows. 

Tomás turned completely toward her. “Do you know what the freest day of my life was?” “I don’t expect an answer. The day I lost everything: my studies, my plan, my perfect future—everything crumbled.” “And that made you free?” “It forced me to decide who I was without all of that.” He barely smiled. “It turns out I liked the person I found better.” Luciana really looked at him. 

She saw the lines around his eyes, his calloused hands, the tranquility he radiated. How do you do it? What? Being at peace with yourself. I stopped living for the approval of others. He shrugged. I work honestly. I help my sister, Leo, when I can. I sleep well at night. It sounds simple. 

It is, but it’s not easy. The rain was pouring down. The world outside disappeared behind curtains of water. “Sometimes I think about what it would be like,” Luciana began. “No, no, what? Don’t go there.” Tomás stood up. “It’s not fair to either of us.” But Luciana also stood up and went over to him. “Thinking about you isn’t fair.” “Luciana, stop, please.” 

Why? Because you’re getting married in two months. Because your family will fire me. If you can’t even imagine what stopped. What… Tomás closed his eyes. What I feel when you’re near. Luciana’s heart stopped. Then it beat twice as fast. And what do you feel? I shouldn’t feel anything. She opened her eyes. You’re my bosses’ daughter. You’re engaged. Your world and mine aren’t. 

The worlds were apart. Luciana closed the distance between them. They were just inches apart. “Your family, your fiancé, your whole world is against me,” Tomás said hoarsely. “I’m not going to make the mistake you regret. You wouldn’t be a mistake. You say that now. I always say it.” They looked at each other. The tension was unbearable. 

The air between them crackled. Luciana raised her hand, her fingers brushing Tomás’s cheek. He closed his eyes at the touch. His breathing changed. Luciana moved closer. He could feel the warmth of her body, the scent of earth and rain. Tomás opened his eyes, looking at her with what seemed like pain. 

“If I do this,” he whispered, “if I kiss you now, I won’t be able to stop loving you. So, kiss me.” For a second, everything was suspended, the world holding its breath. Tomás raised his hand, caressed Luciana’s cheek with his thumb, and leaned toward her. Their lips were a breath away, and then he pulled away. 

She took three steps back as if she were burning up. “I can’t.” Her voice sounded shattered. “I can’t do this to you. I can’t do this to myself.” “Tomás, when you choose to leave everything, it has to be because you decided to.” He looked at her with shining eyes. “Not because I seduced you in a greenhouse in the rain. You’re not seducing me.” “No.” He laughed humorlessly. 

So what am I doing? What are we doing? Luciana had no answer. “Go home,” he said gently. “Marry Sebastián if that’s what you want, or don’t, but decide for yourself, not for me. What if I say it? Really? Or are you just scared and I’m the convenient escape route?” That hurt because there was a grain of truth in it. 

Luciana felt her tears mingling with the rain on her face. “You’re cruel. I’m being honest, Tomás,” she breathed shakily. “And I respect you too much to make the same mistake you did.” Luciana left the greenhouse. The rain was still falling, but she didn’t feel it anymore. She ran to the house, went up to her room, locked herself in, and cried. She cried because she was right. 

She cried because she almost kissed him. She cried because she didn’t. She cried because she had fallen in love with the wrong man at the worst possible time. An hour later, Berenice came in without knocking. “Are you soaked? What were you doing outside?” “Walking in this storm.” Her mother approached, studying her. “Your eyes are red.” “I’m tired.” “Mm.” Berenice didn’t believe her, but she didn’t press the issue. 

Sebastian is coming tomorrow, bringing the ring. Luciana’s stomach lurched. Tomorrow is almost a week until New Year’s. He wants you to have it beforehand, so you can get used to it. He smiled. It’s enormous, apparently. Luciana nodded, unable to speak. The next day, Sebastian arrived with a blue velvet box. He opened it ceremonially. 

The ring shone dazzlingly under the living room lights. Four carats. He was proud. Princess cut. VVS1 clarity. He said it like it was a car’s specifications. “It’s beautiful,” Luciana lied. Sebastián slipped it on. The ring weighed like a chain. “Take pictures, upload them to Instagram.” He handed her his phone. “Everyone’s waiting.” Luciana looked at the ring on her hand. It sparkled with thousands of cool glimmers. 

He thought of calloused hands, caressing her cheek, of dark eyes telling her she deserved to be happy. Luciana, Sebastián insisted, the photos. Then she managed to say, not now. Why not? Only later. Sebastián frowned, but didn’t argue. That night Luciana sat by the window. The ring was still on her hand. She hadn’t taken it off, but she hadn’t photographed it either. 

She glanced toward the shed. The light was off for the first time in weeks, and she knew that Tomás was also awake in the darkness, thinking of her as she thought of him. The Walnut Club shone like a jewel. Little lights hung from every tree. The orchestra was tuning their instruments on the stage. Luciana looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. 

The gold dress made her look like someone else. Someone happy, someone excited, someone who wasn’t herself. “You look beautiful,” her mother said from behind her. “Thank you, it’s your night, darling.” Berenice smoothed a strand of hair. Everything will be perfect. Perfect. That word again. They went out into the ballroom. Two hundred people were already there. They were chatting, laughing, drinking champagne. The entire elite of Bogotá gathered to witness the engagement of the year. 

Sebastian was waiting for her downtown. He’d already had two drinks. He had that gleam in his eyes that appeared when he drank. “There’s my fiancée.” He kissed her on the lips. “You look incredible.” “You’re a little nervous too.” “No reason to be.” He squeezed her hand. “It’s all planned. At midnight, when the fireworks go down, I’ll get down on one knee.” “You say yes.” Everyone applauded. 

Simple, simple, as if sealing her life were a rehearsed choreography. The night moved on in slow motion. Luciana smiled, danced, accepted congratulations for an engagement that hadn’t yet happened, but that everyone took for granted. At 11:30 she needed some air. She went out to the club’s gardens. Few people were outside, it was cold, and then she saw him. Tomás was by the planters fixing something with the lighting system. 

She was wearing the club’s maintenance uniform. She hadn’t known he worked there too. Their eyes met across the distance. He stood motionless. She couldn’t move either. Luciana wanted to run to him. She wanted to tell him so many things. But her father’s voice cut through the night. “Luciana, it’s almost midnight. Sebastián is looking for you.” 

Fernando took her arm firmly, possessively. He led her back inside. Luciana turned around once more. Tomás was still there, watching her, and in his eyes she saw something that shattered her. Goodbye. The lights went out. The countdown began. 10. Sebastián took her hand. He led her to the center of the room. Nine. The spotlights came on. 

They all formed a circle around her. Eight. There was no escape. 200 pairs of eyes on her. Seven, she saw her mother, her father, everyone waiting. Six. The orchestra began to play something romantic. Five. Sebastian knelt down. He took out the box with the ring she knew. Four. Phones were raised, everyone recording. 

Three. Luciana Palacios began, Sebastián, her voice clear and strong. Would you do me the honor of marrying me? Two. She couldn’t breathe. The room seemed to spin. One. Happy New Year. Fireworks exploded outside, the lights flickered. Luciana looked at the ring, looked at Sebastián, looked at the expectant faces, thought of a greenhouse, of rain, of hands that almost touched her, but stopped out of respect. Yes. 

Her voice sounded hollow, but she said, “Yes.” The room erupted in applause. The orchestra played louder. Sebastián slipped the ring on her finger and kissed her in front of everyone. Luciana felt as if she were watching the scene from outside her body, as if it were happening to someone else. “Congratulations!” everyone shouted. 

The next two hours were a blur of hugs, kisses on the cheek, “Congratulations. What a beautiful ring! You make the perfect couple. It’s about time.” Luciana smiled, nodded, played her part, but inside she was dying. At 3 a.m., they were finally able to leave. Sebastián was drunk. His father took him home. 

Luciana told her parents she wanted to sleep in her apartment, not the mansion. “Are you sure?” Verenice asked. “I thought you’d want to celebrate with us. I’m tired, Mom.” Verenice studied her, but nodded. “Okay, get some rest. We’ll start the real preparations tomorrow.” Luciana got into her car, drove on autopilot, didn’t go to her apartment, went to the Palacios mansion, to the garden, to the shed. The light was on. 

She knocked once, twice. Tomás opened the door. He had a half-packed box behind him. “What are you doing?” she asked. “Packing.” He didn’t even seem surprised to see her. “I’m going to Cali tomorrow.” “Cali. My sister moved there. It’s time for me to go.” “Why?” Tomás looked at her with tired eyes. 

Because I can’t stay here watching you marry him. Luciana felt tears fall. I said yes. I know. I saw you, but every thought was of you. Silence fell like a stone. Luciana, go home. No, please, he didn’t come any closer. I can’t keep pretending. You have to. I love you. The words came out before she could stop them. Tomás closed his eyes. Don’t say that. It’s true. I fell in love with you. 

I don’t know exactly when. Maybe it was when you covered me with your jacket, or when you fixed the fountain, or when you asked me if I was happy. The tears wouldn’t stop. But I love you. I just got engaged to another man in front of 200 people. Luciana, tell me you don’t feel the same way. He challenged her. Look at me and tell me you don’t feel anything. 

Tomás opened his eyes. They were shining. “I’ve been in love with you for months. Ever since the day of the sprinkler, when I saw you, embarrassed and beautiful and real.” His voice broke. “But that doesn’t change anything. It changes everything, doesn’t it? Your family, your life, your…” Luciana kissed him, she didn’t think, she just acted. She stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his. 

For a second, Tomás didn’t react. Then something snapped inside him; he pulled her close, deepened the kiss, one hand on her waist, the other on the back of her neck. It was like falling and flying at the same time. Luciana tangled her fingers in his hair. Everything disappeared. Except this, except them. When they broke apart, both were breathing heavily. 

“This is madness,” Tomás whispered. “I know. It’s going to destroy us.” I don’t care. He kissed her again, more desperately, as if it were the last time. Tomás closed the shed door behind them. What followed was a mixture of tenderness and desperation. Clothes falling, hands exploring, whispers in the darkness. “Are you sure?” he asked against her neck. 

I’ve never been more certain of anything. They surrendered to each other with an intensity that left them trembling. Afterward, lying on the narrow bed, Luciana traced circles on his chest. “What are you thinking about?” Tomás asked. “That you should feel guilty.” “And you don’t?” “No.” She looked at him. “I feel free for the first time in years.” He kissed her forehead. 

What are we going to do? I don’t know. We can’t go on like this. You’re engaged. I stopped. This is going to destroy us. Then let it destroy us. Luciana snuggled closer. But give me tonight. Just this one night, really. Tomás hugged her tighter. They talked until dawn. About everything, about nothing, about impossible dreams. 

If you could do anything, he asked, what would you do? Work with plants, do research, get my hands dirty. I smiled. Live in a small apartment that’s mine. Wake up happy. Sounds perfect. And you? Finish my degree, design sustainable gardens, maybe teach. He looked at her. Wake up next to someone who truly loves me. 

They kissed slowly, savoring every second, but dawn arrived inevitably. Light filtered through the window. Reality returned. Luciana dressed in silence. The engagement ring gleamed obscenely on her hand. I have to go. I know. In the doorway, they turned to face each other. Now what? she asked. I don’t know. Tomás touched her cheek, but we crossed a line that can’t be uncrossed. Do you regret it? No. 

He kissed her gently. But I’m scared. Me too. Luciana left at dawn. She drove to her apartment, her hands trembling. She showered, changed, and looked at herself in the mirror. She had kiss marks on her neck, swollen lips, and bright eyes. She looked like someone who had just been truly loved and was wearing another man’s ring on her hand. 

Her phone vibrated. Sebastián. Good morning, fiancée. I love you. Let’s have breakfast. Luciana dropped the phone. She had crossed the line, and there was no going back. Two weeks living in two worlds. By day, Luciana tried on wedding dresses, chose flowers, smiled for engagement photos. By night, she escaped to the shed, into Tomás’s arms, to the only part of her life that felt real. “This can’t go on,” he said every time I knew it. 

She answered each time, but neither of them could stop. It was Tuesday night. Luciana had waited until 11 to go out. Everyone was asleep in the mansion. She knocked on the shed door three times. Her signal. Tomás opened it immediately and pulled her inside. “I missed you,” she whispered against his mouth. 

Only two days had passed, two very long days. He kissed her deeply. Their hands found familiar places. Hours later, lying in the narrow bed, Luciana traced the lines of his face. “Let’s go,” she said suddenly. “What? You and me now, tonight,” she spoke quickly, excitedly. “We can go anywhere, start over.” Tomás took her hand and kissed it. 

With what money? With what plan? I don’t know. We’ll figure it out. Luciana, don’t you want to be with me? You know I do. She sat down, but not like this. Not running away in the night like criminals. Then how? I don’t know. She ran her hands through her hair. But I know this, what we’re doing, is going to blow up. And when it blows up, I want it to be because you chose it, not because we were found out. I’ve already chosen. 

Really, because you still wear that ring, you still live in that house, a knock on the door froze them. Tomás, Verenice’s voice pierced the wood. Open this door. The world stopped. Luciana jumped out of bed, searching for her clothes with trembling hands. Luciana, I know you’re in there. Another knock. Open up or I’ll break the door down. Tomás dressed quickly, looked at her. 

Whatever happens, I know. She opened the door. Berenice stood there, her face contorted with fury. Fernando stood behind her. Her mother’s eyes darted from Tomás to Luciana, from the disheveled hair to the rumpled clothes, to the unmade bed. “No,” Berenice whispered. “No, no, no. Mama, silence.” The scream echoed through the night. 

He’s the gardener. You’ve completely lost your mind. Fernando shoved his wife aside. He stormed into the shed. “You,” he pointed at Tomás. “Get off my property now, Mr. Palacios. Now or I’ll call the police.” “Dad, it’s not his fault. It’s not his fault.” Fernando laughed humorlessly. “He took advantage of you, and it’s not his fault.” 

“He didn’t take advantage of anyone,” Luciana shouted. “I came here. I sought him out. I did it because he manipulated you.” Berenice had entered as well. “He brainwashed you. He made you believe. No one brainwashed me.” Tears streamed down her face. “I love him.” The silence was deafening. Verenice staggered as if she had been struck. 

You don’t know what you’re saying. Yes, I do. I love him and he loves me. Fernando turned to Tomás. How much? Excuse me. How much money do you want to disappear from his life? Thomas tensed. I don’t want his money. Everyone wants money. Fernando pulled out his checkbook. 100 million. 200. Tell me your price. I’m not for a price. Everyone has a price. 

Those of your class especially. There it was. Naked and ugly classism. Tomás took a deep breath. With all due respect, sir, you can keep your money. I’m not with Luciana for money. No. Then what? Love, Fernando almost spat out the word. Do you think a gardener can give her the life she deserves? Dad, that’s enough. You shut up. 

Fernando kept his eyes glued to Tomás. “What are you going to give him? A maid’s quarters. A life of misery.” “Oh. I’m going to give him respect,” Tomás replied calmly. “Something you’ve never given him.” Fernando moved so fast no one saw him coming. His fist connected with Tomás’s jaw. “Dad, no!” Luciana stepped in. 

Tomás wiped the blood from his lip. He didn’t retaliate. “I’m leaving,” he said simply. “I don’t want to cause you any more trouble. More trouble.” Berenice laughed hysterically. “Do you know what you’ve done? The reputation you’ve ruined. Mom, he didn’t do anything wrong. Nothing wrong.” 

He’s having an affair with a married woman, a woman from our family. Brenice’s eyes burned. And you, you’ve stooped so low. I haven’t stooped to anything. Luciana lifted her chin. For the first time in my life, I’m with someone who sees me as a person, not as a surname, not as a marriage investment. He’s the gardener, Vereniz repeated as if that explained everything. His name is Tomás. Luciana trembled. 

And he’s more of a man than Sebastian will ever be. Fernando pointed to the door. You two go outside. I’m not going to… It’s not a suggestion. Luciana looked at Tomás. He nodded slightly. Go, I’ll be fine. They walked to the house in silence. Once inside, Fernando slammed the door to his study. Sit down. I prefer to stand. 

I don’t care what you prefer. Sit down. Luciana obeyed only because her legs were trembling. Berenice paced like a caged animal. Sebastian, my God, Sebastian, what are we going to tell her? The truth, Fernando replied, that there was a complication. Complication is a scandal that we’ll handle discreetly. Fernando turned to Luciana. 

This is what’s going to happen. That man is leaving tomorrow. We’ll give him generous compensation on the condition that he signs a confidentiality agreement. He won’t accept his money. Everyone agrees. Fernando continued. You’ll marry Sebastian in a month, not two, in one. We’re speeding everything up. I’m not going to… Yes, you’re going to do it. Or we’ll disinherit you. His voice was cold. 

We froze all your accounts. The apartment is ours. The car is ours. Everything is ours. Luciana felt panic rising. You can’t force me to marry you. We didn’t force you. Perenice finally stopped. But if you choose that man over your family, you’ll be alone. No money, no support, nothing. I have my degree. Your degree. Her mother laughed. 

Who’s going to hire you when word gets out that you ruined your engagement for a fling with the gardener? The words were like knives. This is what’s going to happen, Fernando said decisively. The day after tomorrow there’s a dinner party with family and close friends. You’ll announce the wedding date, you’ll prove that you’re committed to this marriage. 

And if I refuse, then God help you, because we won’t. They left the studio, leaving her alone. Luciana stood there trembling. She heard voices outside, shouts, and ran to the window. She saw two security guards escorting Tomás out of the property. He was carrying only a suitcase. 

She banged on the glass, but he didn’t turn around. Her phone vibrated. A message from an unknown number. “I won’t be the reason you lose your family, but if you need me, I’ll always be here.” Luciana collapsed to the floor. She cried until she had no tears left. Hours later, she was in his apartment, the one that technically wasn’t hers. She stared at her reflection. 

The ring gleamed on her hand. It weighed a ton. She considered two paths. One, marrying Sebastián: security, family, the life she knew. Two, choosing Tomás: uncertainty, rejection, freedom. She remembered the day with the sprinkler, the shame, the water, the laughter, and Tomás’s hands covering her shoulders. His voice telling her he had only seen someone who needed help. That’s what she wanted to be. 

Someone who helped, someone who truly loved, someone brave, not someone who lived for appearances. Her phone rang. Verice, dinner is the day after tomorrow at 8. Don’t be late, wear the dress we bought you, and for God’s sake, smile. Luciana looked at the message, then at the ring, and knew she had 48 hours to decide who she wanted to be. The dress cost more than Tomás’s annual salary. 

Luciana looked at herself in her bedroom mirror. Ivory silk, pearls around her neck, perfectly styled hair—she looked like a bride, like a doll, like anything but herself. Downstairs, she could hear voices. Fifty guests had already arrived. Close family and friends, they said. An intimate dinner to announce the official wedding date. 

A beautifully decorated trap. Her phone vibrated. A message from Paula, Tomás’s sister. “My brother takes the 9 pm bus, South Terminal, if you need to know.” Luciana checked the time. 7:30. There was a knock at the door. “Luciana, it’s time,” Verenice called. She descended the stairs like a funeral procession. The guests turned to look at her. 

They smiled and applauded. Sebastián was waiting for her downstairs; he kissed her cheek. He smelled of whiskey. “Beautiful,” he whispered. “Everything will be perfect.” He led her to the dining room. The table gleamed with crystal and silver. Fifty people sat waiting. Dinner passed like a blurry dream. Luciana ate without knowing what she was eating. She smiled without feeling anything. Fernando stood up for the toast. 

Her glass clinked against the crystal. Dear friends and family, we are here to celebrate the union of two exceptional families. Polite applause. Sebastián and Luciana represent the best of our society: education, tradition, values. She looked directly at her daughter. Maintaining family legacies is fundamental in these times. 

Legacies, as if they were companies merging. Sebastian’s father stood up too. My son has chosen well. Luciana is the kind of woman every man in our position needs. Needs, not loves. Doesn’t choose. Needs. Luciana looked at the ring on her hand. The diamonds reflected the light. Cold, empty, perfect. 

She thought of Tomás at a bus terminal, alone, leaving everything behind. Not asking her to choose him, not begging, just leaving, because he had too much pride to keep it a secret, too much respect to ask her to sacrifice everything. And here she was, looking perfect, being perfect, dying inside. Sebastián stood up; everyone was waiting for his speech. “I want to thank everyone for being here.” 

He took Luciana’s hand. “I especially want to thank this extraordinary woman for agreeing to be my wife.” More applause. “We’ve decided,” he paused dramatically, “to get married on February 14th, Valentine’s Day.” Gasps of excitement, exclamations. “Only a month, I know, it’s quick, but when you find the right person,” he looked at her. 

Why wait? Everyone was looking at Luciana, waiting for her confirmation, her smile, her acceptance. She opened her mouth. No. The word came out clear, strong. The dining room fell silent. What? Sebastián laughed nervously. What did you say? Luciana stood up, her hands trembling, and took off the ring. 

“No, Luciana,” I said, her father warned. “No, Dad.” She looked at him. “I can’t keep doing this.” Berenice stood up too. “Sit down now.” “No, Mom, I’ve sat down enough. I’ve smiled enough. I’ve lied enough.” She turned to Sebastian and placed the ring on the table. “You deserve someone who truly wants this life. I don’t.” 

Are you crazy? Sebastián’s voice rose. Why are you going to throw all this away, gardener? Scandalized murmurs rippled around the table. It’s not about him. Luciana took a deep breath. It’s about me. She looked at the 50 faces staring at her. Family, friends, Bogotá’s elite. My whole life I’ve lived for the approval of this table. 

To look good, to be the right daughter, the right fiancée, the right person. Her voice cracked, but she continued. I met someone who showed me there’s a difference between looking happy and being happy. The gardener, someone spat out. His name is Tomás. Luciana lifted her chin and saw me. She really saw me. Not my last name, not my bank account, not my social standing. 

“That’s enough, Luciana,” Verenice pleaded. “No, Mom, I have to say this.” Tears flowed freely now. “She taught me that honest work has dignity, that kindness is worth more than money, that loving me doesn’t mean controlling me.” Fernando slammed his fist on the table. “If you walk out that door, what then, Dad? You’ll disinherit me later.” He felt something release in his chest. 

I don’t need the money if it comes with a cage. You’re throwing your life away, Sebastián shouted. Why? For a gardener? For myself. Luciana looked him straight in the eye. Something you’d never understand. She turned to face them all. If loving Tomás means leaving this world, then it’s not my world. 

If being myself means losing this family, then her voice broke. Then I’ll have to learn to live without it. Berenice was crying. Fernando was red with fury. Sebastián looked at her as if he didn’t know her. Maybe he never did. Luciana walked toward the door. Each step felt like breaking chains. If you go out, don’t come back, Fernando threatened. 

Luciana stopped, turned around. Goodbye, Dad. She left, walked down the hall. She heard shouts behind her, but didn’t turn around. She got into her car. Her hands were shaking so much she could barely put the key in. She started the engine. She drove out of the parking lot, out of the house, out of the life she knew, and didn’t cry until she was on the street. 

Then tears blinded her. She had to stop. She rested her head on the steering wheel. She had just lost everything. Family, money, security, everything. But she felt lighter than ever. She checked the time. 8:40. She accelerated toward the southern terminal. The traffic was heavy. Every red light was torture. Please, please, let him not be gone. 

She arrived at the terminal at 9:05, parked anywhere, and ran inside. “Cali, where are the buses to Cali?” A screen displayed departures. “Platform 12, boarding now.” She ran. Her heels clicked on the floor. People stared at her. A woman in a ball gown running like a madwoman. She didn’t care. Platform 12. The bus doors were already open. People were boarding. 

“Tomás!” she shouted. “Nothing. Tomás.” A figure turned. It was him. Their eyes met across the distance. Luciana ran. She reached him breathless. “Don’t get on that bus.” Tomás stared at her as if she were a ghost. “What are you doing here?” “I didn’t get on the bus,” she said nonsensically. 

I said, “Don’t get up there, Luciana, what happened?” He took her shoulders. “Are you okay?” “I broke off the engagement, I gave him back the ring, I told everyone to breathe, that I don’t need his world, I need to build my own.” “What?” “And I want to build it with someone who knows the value of the things that matter.” She looked him straight in the eyes. “With you, Tomás, if you still love me.” He was studying her. 

His eyes searched her face. “Your family disinherited me.” Sebastián, furious. “Money, nothing. Are you sure?” Her voice broke. “Luciana, I can’t give you anything you had. I don’t want what I had.” He cupped her face in his hands. “I want this for you and for us. Even though we don’t know what’s coming, even though it won’t be difficult. I know.” 

I don’t have much to offer you. You have everything I need. Tomás kissed her deeply, desperately, full of promise. When they parted, they were both crying. “Where are we going?” she asked. “I don’t know.” She laughed through her tears. “I was going to Cali because Paula is there.” “But then we’re going to Cali.” “Just like that, without a plan.” “Just like that, without a plan.” She smiled. “For the first time in my life. Without a plan.” The bus driver honked the horn. 

Last call for Cali. Tomás extended his hand. Are you ready? Luciana took it. They boarded the bus together. They found two seats in the back. As the bus pulled out of the terminal, Luciana looked out the window. The lights of Bogotá were receding. Her whole life, everything she knew, was being left behind. And she was afraid. Terrified. 

But Tomás intertwined his fingers with hers. “Hey,” he whispered, “we’re together. We’re together,” she repeated. And for the first time in 28 years, Luciana Palacios wasn’t a last name, wasn’t a marriage investment, wasn’t a perfect image, she was just Luciana, free, in love, terrified, alive. 

The bus sped off into the night, into the unknown, into the future they had chosen together. Eighteen months later, on a sunny Saturday in Chapinero, Luciana wiped the dirt from her hands on her work pants. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, her nails short and unpainted, and there were smudges of dirt on her cheek. She had never felt more beautiful. 

Luciana, her assistant called from the entrance. The group of students has arrived. I’m on my way. She walked along the paths of the Chapinero Sustainable Botanical Garden. Her garden—well, it wasn’t legally hers, but she felt it was. She had helped design it, she cared for it, she loved it. Twenty botany students were waiting in the main greenhouse. 

Luciana began her talk about medicinal plants from the Colombian highlands. Her thesis, which no one had read, she was now teaching to a new generation. “Plants don’t need money to grow,” she said, holding up a small frailejón. “They just need the right conditions: good soil, clean water, adequate light.” A student raised her hand. “Is it true that you left everything to work here?” Luciana smiled. 

“I left some things behind, I found better ones.” After the talk, he walked back to the office. It wasn’t really an office, it was a converted room with a recycled desk and a creaky chair, but it had a window overlooking the garden and that was enough. His phone rang. “Tomás, how’s your day going?” he asked. 

Okay, I gave the talk to the students. You, we finished the design for the park in Ciudad Bolívar. The mayor approved it. Luciana smiled. Pride filled her completely. Honey, that’s incredible. You’re incredible. She paused. Do you remember what day it is today? Saturday. Yes, but oh no. Luciana laughed. I forgot something. Eighteen months ago, we took a bus together. 

Something tightened in her chest, sweet, warm. 18 months. The best 18 months of my life, he said softly. Mine too. I’ll see you at home. I have a surprise. What surprise? If I tell you, it’s not a surprise. She laughed. I love you. I love you more. She hung up. She stared at the phone for a moment. 18 months. It felt like yesterday and like a lifetime ago. 

The first few months in Cali had been difficult. They lived with Paula in her one-bedroom apartment. Luciana worked as a waitress while Tomás resumed his engineering studies. Money was tight, sometimes not enough, but they had each other. Paula turned out to be their salvation. The sister they never had. She coached them for interviews, taught them how to prepare budgets, and introduced them to friends. 

And eight months after the scandal, when Vereniz fell ill with pneumonia, Paula was her nurse. “Your daughter asks about you every day,” Paula had told Vereniz. “But she’s afraid to call.” “I’m afraid too,” her mother had admitted. Paula gave her Luciana’s phone number. Fear doesn’t go away on its own; you have to face it. 

The call from her mother came on a Tuesday night. Luciana, Mom, they had cried. Both of them for an hour. They didn’t fix everything that day, or that month, or even that year. But they started. Fernando took longer, six more months, but one afternoon he showed up at the garden where Luciana worked. “Do you see yourself?” She didn’t finish the messy sentence. 

Luciana smiled. Happy. Her father’s eyes were moist. “You look genuinely happy.” They hugged for the first time in a year. Now Luciana left kindergarten at 5. She took the TransMilenio home to her apartment in Teusaquillo, 40 square meters, one room, small kitchen. It was perfect. She opened the door and stopped. There were candles everywhere, flowers, soft music. 

Tomás stood in the middle of it all, wearing a suit and smiling nervously. “What is this?” he asked. “Eighteen months isn’t much,” he began, “but it’s enough to know.” He knelt down. Luciana’s heart stopped. “I know I can’t give you mansions, or trips to Europe, or expensive jewelry.” He pulled out a small box. 

But I can give you my life, my respect, my love every day, forever. He opened the box. A simple gold ring, no diamonds, no ostentation. Will you marry me? Luciana knelt down too. He cupped her face in his hands. Yes, a thousand times yes. He kissed her through tears, through laughter. He slipped the ring onto her finger; it fit perfectly. Three months later they were married in the botanical garden. 

Fifty people—family and real friends, not out of obligation, but out of love. Luciana wore a simple ivory dress. She had bought it herself with her salary. It cost as much as a dinner party in her previous life, but it was hers, chosen by her. Paula was her bridesmaid. Berenice cried in the front row. Fernando walked her down the aisle, his hands trembling. 

“I’m proud of you,” he whispered as he gave her away, “of the woman you are.” There was no orchestra, just a guitar. There weren’t 500 guests, just the ones who mattered. When Tomás said, “I do,” his voice cracked with emotion. When Luciana said, “I do,” she felt her entire past align for this moment. 

“You may kiss the bride,” the judge said. And Tomás kissed her as if they were the only two people in the world. The wedding photos didn’t appear in the society magazines. There were no glamorous features, but Luciana’s favorite photo hung framed in the living room, both of them laughing. He had dirt on his suit from helping with the plants. 

Her makeup was smeared from crying so much with happiness. They were completely themselves. On her wrist, Luciana wore something she never took off, a bracelet Tomás had made for her from a button on his denim jacket, the jacket that had covered her the day of the sprinkler fire when it all began. “Why did you keep that button?” he had asked her when he gave it to her. 

Because that day there was the person you would become: brave, authentic, free. He kissed her, and I fell in love with that person before you even knew her. Now, lying in her bed in her small apartment, Tomás traced circles on her back. “Do you ever regret anything?” he asked softly. “What?” “Everything you left behind.” Luciana thought about it honestly. 

Sometimes I miss my family the way it used to be. He snuggled closer. But I don’t miss life, I don’t miss the cage. And if you could come back with all the money, but without me, then I’d be losing the only thing that’s worth it. She kissed him. You saw me, Tomás, when no one else did. You saw me and loved me just as I was. You’re easy to love. I wasn’t. 

She was bitter and lost. She smiled. You found me. We found each other. She was right. It wasn’t the story of him saving her or her sacrificing herself. It was the story of two people choosing to build something together. Not in her world, not in his world, but in their own world, made to measure, with honest work, real love, and hard-earned dignity. It wasn’t perfect. 

There were difficult days, tight budgets, worries, but he was hers. And every night Luciana fell asleep in the arms of the man who loved her for who she was. Not for her last name, not for her bank account, not for her social standing, but for her, only her, and that was worth more than all the diamonds in the world. What did you think of Luciana and Tomás’s story? Leave your comments below. 

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