At this age, most people think about retiring, taking care of their grandchildren, going to church, or taking quiet walks in the park… not putting on a wedding dress, getting married again, and certainly not feeling nervous about a wedding night.
But I did exactly that.
The man I married — Manuel — was my first love when I was twenty years old.
We fell deeply in love back then, promising each other that we would get married someday. However, life had other plans.
At that time, my family was very poor. My father was seriously ill, and Manuel had to go far away to work in the north of the country.
Between distance, responsibilities, and some misunderstandings, we ended up losing contact.
Some time later, my family arranged my marriage to another man.
He was a good, respectful man… but he wasn’t the man I loved.
For thirty years, I fulfilled my role as a wife. I had children, raised them, took care of the house, and kept the family together. My husband passed away seven years ago from an illness. Since then, I’ve lived alone in our old house. My children now have their own families, and each one lives in a different city.
I thought my story was already over.