“Tomorrow, I will marry Laura, the woman who has waited patiently for me for three years. Everything is ready, our two families have prepared the wedding with care. But deep in my heart there is still an indelible shadow: the memory of Mariana, my first wife, who died in a road accident four years ago. »
That day remains etched in my memory like a scar. Mariana went out early to the market to prepare food for the anniversary of my father’s death. And then, that call shattered my life: “Your husband had an accident… we did everything we could, but he didn’t survive.” When I arrived, her body was lifeless, and on her face was still the sweet smile I knew so well. I felt the world crumble beneath my feet.
It could be a picture of 3 people
I lived a year like a ghost. The house we had built with so much effort had become a cold and empty place. Every time I opened the closet and could still smell the fabric softener in it, I fell. My friends and family pushed me to rebuild my life, but I just shook my head. I believed that I was no longer worthy of anyone and that I would never be loved again.
Until Laura came into my life.
She was a new coworker, five years younger than me. She was not pushy or too close. But her quiet tenderness gradually showed me that my heart still felt warm. When I thought of Mariana, she just sat next to me and offered me a cup of tea. When the noise of the street would bring back memories of the tragedy, he would hold my hand until I calmed down. For three years, he had not asked me to forget the past; he had simply waited, with infinite patience, until I was ready to open my heart again.
And so, I decided to marry him.
But before I took that step, I felt the need to visit Mariana, clean her grave, and light incense on it. I wanted to believe that wherever she came from, she wanted to see me happy too.
That night, a light rain fell. The cemetery was empty, only the wind in the eucalyptus trees broke the silence. I carried white flowers, a rag, and a bunch of candles. With trembling hands, I placed the chrysanthemums on the grave and whispered,
“Mariana, tomorrow I will marry another woman. I know that if you were still alive, you would also want me to find someone by my side. I will never forget you, but I have to move on… I can’t wait any longer for Laura.” »
A tear fell without me realizing it. As I was cleaning the tombstone, I heard very light footsteps behind me.
I turned around, my eyes still red.
In front of me stood a woman in her thirties, thin, wearing a light beige coat. Her hair was blowing in the wind, and there was a sad gleam in her eyes.
“Forgive me, I didn’t mean to scare you,” she said in a trembling voice.
I nodded as I wiped my tears.
“This is pointless… Are you going to visit someone? »
He paused for a moment, looked at the other grave and replied,
“I came to visit my sister. She died in a road accident… four years ago. »
My heart stopped. I read the tombstone:
Gabriela Ramírez – 1992-2019.
Exactly the same date as Mariana’s death.
“Your sister… She died on the same day as my husband. »
She opened her eyes, surprised, and looked at me intently:
“Did your husband die that day too?”
I nodded and told her what had happened.
Her eyes filled with tears as she placed a bouquet of white lilies on her brother’s grave.
“That day, Gabriela was traveling with a friend… I never thought it would be her last trip. She said, sobbing.
The silence of the cemetery enveloped us. I felt a strange connection, as if it were a coincidence that two strangers shared the same pain.
When she said goodbye, she told me:
“My name is Isabel.”
“I’m Daniel.” I replied.
We had been talking for a long time about those we had lost. He told me about Gabriela, happy, optimistic, passionate about music. I was talking about Mariana, her kindness, her altruism. There was pain in our eyes, certainly, but also a careful tenderness in the evocation of happy memories.
The next day, Laura and I got married surrounded by our family and friends. She was radiant in white, and everyone congratulated us on finding happiness again.
But deep down, the image of Isabel in the cemetery still echoed.
Fate, unmistakably, crossed paths again.
I learned that she worked for a company that provided me. During a meeting, she barely whispered,
“Daniel… »
We had coffee after work. Isabel told me:
“Since Gabriela died, I have been hiding from work. But there are nights when I cry for no reason. That day in the cemetery, I felt that I was not alone in my sadness. »
I listened to her and understood that there was an invisible link between us: a shared grief.
But I also knew that this link was dangerous. I had just gotten married; I could not afford to fall into confusion.
Isabel and I had met several times.
Our conversations became longer, more intimate. I shared with her the things I had not told Laura. And it was eating me up.
Until one night, when I could no longer hide it, I decided to confess everything to my wife.
I told her about the meeting in the cemetery, about Isabel, about our exchanges.
Laura had been silent for a long time. I thought he would get angry, but finally he said:
“Daniel, I’ve been waiting for you for three years. I’m not afraid of Isabel. Because I know that love is not mercy or chance: it’s a choice. I just want you to have the courage to choose what you really want. If you’re happier with him, I’ll let you go. »
His words pierced my heart like a knife.
That’s when I understood: true love is not just about sharing wounds, but also about showing sacrifice, trust and faith.
From that day on, I limited my meetings with Isabel to a strict professional framework.
I chose to stay with Laura, because I understood that the past had to stay in its place, and that the woman who really helped me rebuild myself would always be there, by my side.
Sometimes, in the silence, I remember Isabel’s sad eyes, and her question to me:
“Are you with someone who reminds you of Are you just sharing your wounds, or is there someone who is helping you heal them?”
And I understood that this meeting in the cemetery was not there to open a new love story, but to remind me that I did not have to bear my grief alone.
With Laura, I was with her, and with her, I had to learn to live fully.
Since then, my life has truly changed.
Not because of the love triangle, but because I learned to appreciate the present, let go of the past, and move forward