Chapter 75: A Moment of Determination

The blessing of the father toward Mario was brief. After the priest finished, Francisco and Mario exchanged a few quiet words before stepping out into the sunlight. The bells of the small church echoed faintly through the streets of Antioquia as they made their way toward the inn.

Inside, the air was warm with the scent of bread and smoke. Francisco searched the room until he spotted his father near the window, the light glinting off his pipe.

“Father, I need your help,” Francisco said, his tone low but firm.

Carlos raised an eyebrow, exhaling a slow cloud of smoke. “Did something happen?”

Francisco’s gaze flickered toward Catalina, sitting near the hearth. He lowered his voice. “It’s important—and I don’t want anyone to hear.”

Carlos followed his son’s eyes, saw Catalina, and gave a small nod. “Let’s step outside.”

As they left, Catalina watched them through the wavering sunlight that spilled across the inn’s doorway. Their silhouettes vanished into the dust of the street, leaving her with an ache she couldn’t name.

The innkeeper, wiping her hands on a cloth, noticed the girl’s expression. “Bad day, miss?”

Catalina managed a small, brittle smile. “I think I may have just ended my relationship.”

The innkeeper’s brow lifted slightly. She looked toward the road where Francisco and Carlos had gone, then back at Catalina. “So you and that young man are together, then?”

“I thought so,” Catalina murmured. “Though I’m not so sure anymore.”

The innkeeper leaned her elbows on the counter. “Did something happen? A betrayal? Or perhaps his family disapproves?”

Catalina shook her head. “No… nothing like that. It’s my fault, really. I heard a story—a local tale—and it made me insecure. I started pulling away. Now it feels as if we’re strangers pretending to know each other.”

The woman chuckled softly, her voice carrying the rough gentleness of someone who had seen too much. “My dear girl, that’s hardly enough to end a love worth keeping.”

Catalina frowned. “You don’t understand. My doubt might have pushed him away.”

“I’ve kept this inn for more than twenty years,” the innkeeper said, her tone turning wise and heavy. “I’ve seen all kinds of heartbreak—men who strayed, women who drank themselves numb, one poor soul who killed her husband and waited calmly for the guards. Compared to that, your worry sounds less like an ending and more like an excuse not to speak your heart.”

Catalina lowered her eyes. When put like that, her fear did feel childish—but she could not quite let it go. “It isn’t that simple,” she murmured. “People have their reasons. You don’t need tragedy to end love.”

The innkeeper smiled faintly. “Perhaps. But if your bond is so fragile that a little insecurity can shatter it, maybe it wasn’t strong to begin with. And if he’d abandon you for it, perhaps he isn’t the man you think.”

Catalina’s head lifted sharply. “Don’t say that about Francisco. He’s good to me—better than anyone. Even when my grandmother opposed us, he stood his ground. His father, too, has treated me kindly. Truly, if we hadn’t heard that story, everything would still be fine.”

The innkeeper tilted her head. “So a bit of gossip is all it took to shake you? Then yes, perhaps you were the one at fault. You can’t let a legend dictate your love.”

Catalina sighed, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. “I know… but the feeling stays, like a shadow I can’t shake.”

“Then stop chasing his thoughts and ask your own what they want,” the innkeeper said gently. “From what you’ve told me, that boy’s heart is already decided. It’s yours that’s uncertain.”

Catalina blinked, startled. “Of course I love him! I want to be with him.”

The woman’s grin softened. “Then trust that love, and stop doubting the hand that offers it.” She turned toward the kitchen, the scent of yeast and roasting meat drifting in her wake, leaving Catalina staring at the door as if it might open again.

Outside, the late afternoon sun hung heavy over the hills. Francisco and Carlos walked slowly down the road, boots crunching over gravel. The air smelled of dust and horses, and the faint sound of a forge echoed from somewhere down the street.

“I’ve decided to marry Catalina,” Francisco said at last.

Carlos stopped mid-step, nearly choking on his cigar. “What? Are you mad—to do this so suddenly?”

Francisco shook his head. “It’s not sudden, Father. You know that. Two years since we made it official, a lifetime of knowing each other. I’ve wasted enough time chasing ambition and pride. I should’ve focused on her, not on what people might think.”

Carlos studied him in silence, then let out a long, smoky sigh. “I see. Still, you’re young. Most men wait until twenty or twenty-four.”

Francisco frowned. “I know. But I owe her too much already—and more yet to come. Since we arrived in Antioquia, I’ve buried myself in my experiments, leaving her alone. If this is the life I’ve chosen, then I must give her something that will not waver. I want her to know my love is certain, even before God.”

Carlos took another drag from his cigar, the ember glowing in the dusk. “I always expected you’d marry her one day. She’s been the likely choice since you were children. Still, I didn’t think it would come this soon. What about your sister? If you don’t invite her, she’ll never forgive you.”

Francisco smiled faintly. “There’ll be two ceremonies. One here—quietly, in the local church—and another, more formal, when we return. She’ll be there for that one.”

Carlos nodded. “That’s sound thinking. What do you need?”

“A white dress,” Francisco said, “and the rings.”

Carlos made to summon a servant, but Francisco stopped him. “Not yet. I want it to be a surprise.”

Carlos gave a knowing smirk and whispered quick instructions to the servant anyway. The man’s eyes widened but he nodded gravely before hurrying off.

“I’ve already spoken with the priest,” Francisco said. “He’s agreed to perform the ceremony, though without the Admonishment rite. He calls it half a wedding, but it’ll do.”

Carlos chuckled. “And how did you manage that?”

Francisco patted the small pouch at his belt. “He teaches local children and needs repairs for the church. A few coins for a good cause helped him see reason.”

Carlos laughed quietly and shook his head. “Let’s hope that’s all he needs,” he muttered darkly, some shadow of the past flickering in his eyes.

Francisco noticed and spoke softly. “Don’t worry. He’s old—too old for the sort of sins that haunt your thoughts. This church is clean.”

Carlos dropped the cigar, crushing it beneath his boot. “Then move quickly. Catalina’s uneasy already, and after seeing us step out together, she’ll imagine the worst.”

Francisco groaned, rubbing his temple. “Of course. How could I forget that? We’re stuck here until the full moon anyway. Please—speak to her. Reassure her I love her, but don’t mention the wedding.”

Carlos gave a small wave of understanding.

Francisco lingered alone in the street as the light began to fade. The air had cooled; the scent of bread and smoke from the inn drifted faintly through the open windows. He looked toward the mountains in the distance—still gold with the dying sun—and let out a long breath.

There was much to prepare, and very little time.Yet as twilight settled over Antioquia, Francisco felt something firm within him—like the echo of his father’s voice, or the whisper of faith itself.

He would make this right.He would make it beautiful.

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