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Forever and ever

In our engagement, all forty invited people were present. Julio's house had become a luxury, just the way I had imagined. I stop at the entrance, observing the scene where I first saw Carlos. It was truly incredible how our lives had changed in a few months. It doesn't take long for Carlos to appear, smiling at me. He comes towards me and kisses my hand.

"You look beautiful," he compliments, admiring the lovely blush pink lace dress I chose for the evening.

"Thank you," I reply, kissing his lips.

"It's time for dinner," my mother interrupts.

We sit at the table, side by side, when he stands up, giving another kiss to my hand and holding it.

"Thank you all for coming to the happiest night of my life," Carlos says. Then he puts the beautiful diamond ring on my finger, surprising me. I had no idea he had bought an engagement ring for me. He turns to everyone and continues, "I have to admit that I never thought I would end up with her, but she was very persistent. She said she would marry me after our first kiss." He touches my chin and gazes into my eyes, saying, "I want to say that your persistence was worth it because I fell in love with you, Dalia, and I still am. Thank you for showing me that you were, are, and always will be the right person to be with me... forever."

I had never cried so much in my life to the point of losing control. My tears were so overwhelming that I had to compose myself in the bathroom. But one thing I was certain of: Carlos is the man I belong to.


"This dress isn't white," my father says about the fifth wedding dress I chose. It had a rosy tone and lace.

I take a deep breath and return to the fitting room, annoyed. I know you must be wondering: Isn't choosing the wedding dress the mother's role? Yes, but my mother traveled with my sister, and we ended up agreeing that it would be better if my father went with me, which turned out to be a terrible idea. That's because I didn't want to get married in white since I was no longer a virgin. But my father didn't see it that way; for him, it was either white or nothing. After the fifth dress, I got tired and put on my floral dress. I step out of the fitting room, determined to speak my mind to my father... and that's what I did.

"Fine," I begin, pointing my finger at him, under the curious gaze of everyone in the store. "The dress will be white, but I choose the style."

My father just shakes his head, astounded by my behavior. I had never raised my voice to him in all those years. I look for my consultant, who quickly appears. I walk with her back to the racks. Of all the dresses in the store, the one I loved the most was a strapless corset, fully embroidered with gemstones, and with a generous train. As soon as my father sees me in the dress, he stands up, horrified.

"You wouldn't be crazy enough to wear that dress in a church," my father exclaims. "Half of your breasts are falling out of it."

"I warned you," I remind my father. I smile at the saleswoman and say, "This is my dress, please adjust it for me."


One week before our wedding, people started asking us about our bachelor and bachelorette parties. We decided to have them together, throwing a party in our new apartment, just for our closest friends. Our only requirement for friends was to bring only the drinks; the rest was on us.

It was a fun night, especially with Julio's scandalous stories. After he charmed everyone, I called him to show him the rest of my apartment. As soon as we entered the bedroom, I showed him how it was filled with gifts.

"Wow, Dalia," Julio exclaims, amazed. He throws himself on my bed and says, "And when will you break it in?"

"Ah, if this bed could talk..." I joke, throwing myself next to him.

"Don't you think you're rushing into this?" Julio asks, surprising me. Of all people, he was the one who supported me the most, and now he asks me this question. "Don't get me wrong, I know this must be a dream, but even the best dream can turn into a nightmare."

"I'm not rushing into anything," I reply, getting up from the bed. "He's the man I chose for myself. And stop trying to plant doubts in my head."

And that's how I put an end to the matter. Nothing and no one would disturb my happiness.


Our religious wedding was scheduled for the weekend, but we got married in a civil ceremony on a beautiful Thursday with only my parents present. As soon as we got married, my parents invited us for lunch. I couldn't stop looking at Carlos, who is now my husband.

"Although you are married in the eyes of men, you are not married in the eyes of God," my father says, being intrusive. "So no going to your new home and being alone."

Little did he know that the next day, Carlos would fall ill, forcing him to stay at my parents' house so that I could take care of him. My husband had a high fever and was vomiting all day. Deep down, I think it was just nervousness because of the wedding. I took care of him all day, worried because now that our dream was so close, he was getting sick. Could it be that someone had cast a curse on our relationship?

"I... am sorry," Carlos says, with great effort. His fever is quite high; he must be delirious.

"It's not your fault," I say, trying to reassure him.

"I love you, Dalia," Carlos says, feverish.

"I love you, Carlos," I respond immediately.

The next day, I woke up worried, fearing that Carlos had gotten worse. I got up and went straight to his room, which was empty. Then I went to the kitchen table, where my parents and he were having breakfast. If someone had told me, I wouldn't have believed it: Carlos was sitting there as if nothing had happened. I sit next to him, admiring his incredible recovery.

"Today is the big day," my mother reminds us, smiling.

"Yes," Carlos responds, excited. "I will go home to finish preparing everything."

"I'm going to the spa with my mother and sister," I say.

"See you tonight?" Carlos jokes.

"Without a doubt," I reply, giving him a light kiss on his lips.

I spent the day at the spa, trying to relax, but I was very nervous and at the same time happy. I had finally achieved what I wanted most: to marry the man I had chosen.

I prepared myself at the spa, under my mother's emotional gaze and my sister's proud look. We arrived half an hour later than the scheduled delay. Inside the car, I pray not to cry too much and to enjoy that day. My father touches my hand, making me open my eyes.

"It's time," my father says, smiling.


Despite my fear, I entered the church with a smile, and not a single tear dared to fall down my face. My father handed me over to Carlos, and my

In our engagement, all forty invited people were present. Julio's house had turned into a luxury, just the way I had imagined. I stop at the entrance, observing the setting where I first saw Carlos. It was truly incredible how our lives changed in just a few months. It doesn't take long for Carlos to appear, smiling at me. He comes towards me and kisses my hand.

"You look beautiful," he compliments, admiring the lovely blush pink lace dress I chose for the evening.

"Thank you," I reply, kissing his lips.

"It's time for dinner," my mother interrupts.

We sit at the table, side by side, when he stands up, giving another kiss to my hand and holding it.

"Thank you all for coming to the happiest night of my life," Carlos says. Then he puts the beautiful diamond ring on my finger, surprising me. I had no idea he had bought an engagement ring for me. He turns to everyone and continues, "I have to admit that I never thought I would end up with her, but she was very persistent. She said she would marry me after our first kiss." He touches my chin and gazes into my eyes, saying, "I want to say that your persistence was worth it because I fell in love with you, Dalia, and I still am. Thank you for showing me that you were, are, and always will be the right person to be with me... forever."

I had never cried so much in my life to the point of losing control. My tears were so overwhelming that I had to compose myself in the bathroom. But one thing I was certain of: Carlos is the man I belong to.


"This dress isn't white," my father says about the fifth wedding dress I chose. It had a rosy tone and lace.

I take a deep breath and return to the fitting room, annoyed. I know you must be wondering: Isn't choosing the wedding dress the mother's role? Yes, but my mother traveled with my sister, and we ended up agreeing that it would be better if my father went with me, which turned out to be a terrible idea. That's because I didn't want to get married in white since I was no longer a virgin. But my father didn't see it that way; for him, it was either white or nothing. After the fifth dress, I got tired and put on my floral dress. I step out of the fitting room, determined to speak my mind to my father... and that's what I did.

"Fine," I begin, pointing my finger at him, under the curious gaze of everyone in the store. "The dress will be white, but I choose the style."

My father just shakes his head, astounded by my behavior. I look for my consultant, who quickly appears. I walk with her back to the racks. Of all the dresses in the store, the one I loved the most was a strapless corset, fully embroidered with gemstones, and with a generous train. As soon as my father sees me in the dress, he stands up, horrified.

"You wouldn't be crazy enough to wear that dress in a church," my father exclaims. "Half of your breasts are falling out of it."

"I warned you," I remind my father. I smile at the saleswoman and say, "This is my dress, please adjust it for me."


One week before our wedding, people started asking us about our bachelor and bachelorette parties. We decided to have them together, throwing a party in our new apartment, just for our closest friends. Our only requirement for friends was to bring only the drinks; the rest was on us.

It was a fun night, especially with Julio's scandalous stories. After he charmed everyone, I called him to show him the rest of my apartment. As soon as we entered the bedroom, I showed him how it was filled with gifts.

"Wow, Dalia," Julio exclaims, amazed. He throws himself on my bed and says, "And when will you break it in?"

"Ah, if this bed could talk..." I joke, throwing myself next to him.

"Don't you think you're rushing into this?" Julio asks, surprising me. Of all people, he was the one who supported me the most, and now he asks me this question. "Don't get me wrong, I know this must be a dream, but even the best dream can turn into a nightmare."

"I'm not rushing into anything," I reply, getting up from the bed. "He's the man I chose for myself. And stop trying to plant doubts in my head."

And that's how I put an end to the matter. Nothing and no one would disturb my happiness.


Our religious wedding was scheduled for the weekend, but we got married in a civil ceremony on a beautiful Thursday with only my parents present. As soon as we got married, my parents invited us for lunch. I couldn't stop looking at Carlos, who is now my husband.

"Although you are married in the eyes of men, you are not married in the eyes of God," my father says, being intrusive. "So no going to your new home and being alone."

Little did he know that the next day, Carlos would fall ill, forcing him to stay at my parents' house so that I could take care of him. My husband had a high fever and was vomiting all day. Deep down, I think it was just nervousness because of the wedding. I took care of him all day, worried because now that our dream was so close, he was getting sick. Could it be that someone had cast a curse on our relationship?

"I... am sorry," Carlos says, with great effort. His fever is quite high; he must be delirious.

"It's not your fault," I say, trying to reassure him.

"I love you, Dalia," Carlos says, feverish.

"I love you, Carlos," I respond immediately.

The next day, I woke up worried, fearing that Carlos had gotten worse. I got up and went straight to his room, which was empty. Then I went to the kitchen table, where my parents and he were having breakfast. If someone had told me, I wouldn't have believed it: Carlos was sitting there as if nothing had happened. I sit next to him, admiring his incredible recovery.

"Today is the big day," my mother reminds us, smiling.

"Yes," Carlos responds, excited. "I will go home to finish preparing everything."

"I'm going to the spa with my mother and sister," I say.

"See you tonight?" Carlos jokes.

"Without a doubt," I reply, giving him a light kiss on his lips.

I spent the day at the spa, trying to relax, but I was very nervous and at the same time happy. I had finally achieved what I wanted most: to marry the man I had chosen.

I prepared myself at the spa, under my mother's emotional gaze and my sister's proud look. We arrived half an hour later than the scheduled delay. Inside the car, I pray not to cry too much and to enjoy that day. My father touches my hand, making me open my eyes.

"It's time," my father says, smiling.


Despite my fear, I entered the church with a smile, and not a single tear dared to fall down my face. My father handed me over to Carlos, and my smile widened. I feel like the happiest person on the planet

As the pastor begins the ceremony, I can't focus on his words; I'm just admiring how handsome Carlos looks that night. He smiles at me several times, and then it's time for our vows, starting with Carlos:

"I pledge to help you love life, to always embrace you tenderly, and to have the patience that love demands. I promise to speak when words are necessary and to share silence when they are not. I promise to disagree on agreeing about the cake. And to live in the warmth of your heart. I promise to call the space between your arms home and to kiss you every morning. I promise to make you happy and to want your happiness even when we are apart. I promise you my eternal love," he concludes, putting the ring on my finger.

After he utters those beautiful words, it's my turn. I spent a long time thinking about what to say, and these words come closest to what I wanted to express:

"When I met you, I knew I had to go after what I wanted. I left behind my fears and faced everything and everyone just to be with you. I overcame obstacles, cities, and countries, but my love only grew, every day more and in a different way. I loved you when you smiled, I loved you when you showed me how to live better, I loved you at first sight," I finish, placing the ring on his finger.

"By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride," the pastor declares.

Carlos pulls me into his arms and gives me a kiss so intense that it feels like he wants to truly make us one. Everyone applauds, and we start walking under a shower of rice.

The wedding reception takes place at a restaurant owned by our parents' friends. We dance our first dance as a married couple, listen to the heartfelt toasts from our friends, take countless photos, cut the cake, and everything is perfect until I look at Carlos's pale face.

"Are you okay?" I ask, concerned about the cold sweat on his forehead.

"I'm not feeling well," Carlos says, practically running to the bathroom.

I try to stay a bit longer at the party, but I'm tired of posing for photos and seeing him in that state. So I ask Julio and my friend Mercedes, who are practically devouring each other, to take us to the hotel.


Our suite is beautiful, adorned with red rose petals everywhere and a huge heart on the bed. Carlos enters practically on the verge of collapse. I was convinced that there wouldn't be a wedding night when Carlos embraces me.

"I'm fine, my love. Don't worry; I just need to take some medicine and finally be alone with you," he assures me.

"Okay," I reply with a smile. I give him the medicine and head to the bathroom to take a shower. Before that, I reach into my makeup bag and take out the surprise of the night.

I remove the tiara from my hair and let my locks flow freely. Then I wipe off all the makeup and take a wonderful shower. When I come out, I put on the white lace lingerie with the specially chosen stockings for that night. I look at myself in the mirror, and I am perfect.

I leave the bathroom and don't turn on the lights in the room, allowing only my silhouette to reveal my presence. Leaning against the doorway, I ask provocatively, "Did I take too long, my love?"

The only response I receive is the sound of my husband, still dressed in his tuxedo, snoring in our bed.

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