The ceremony had just ended, and all the family on both sides showered us with blessings. I—Alejandro—still felt intoxicated by the tequila and the happiness of my wedding. The woman I had just married, Marisol, was a sweet and modest young woman; everyone said I was lucky to have found her.

Our wedding night was supposed to be the most sacred and sweetest moment of our lives. However, Marisol was behaving strangely. From the moment we entered the room, she sat silently on the edge of the bed, her hands clasped and trembling. I thought perhaps it was shyness, so I tried to gently joke around to put her at ease. But the closer I got, the more she avoided me, flatly refusing to let me near.

Time passed, and my patience began to wear thin. A feeling of unease, even anger, crept over me. A troubling question echoed in my mind:
“Is Marisol hiding something from me?”

Night fell, and only the dim yellow light of the lamp remained in the room. She was still huddled under the blankets, trembling. I approached, placed my hand on her shoulder, and asked gently,
“What’s wrong? We’re married now, don’t you trust me?”

Marisol pressed her lips together, her eyes brimming with tears. She didn’t say a word, only pulled the blanket closer to cover herself. Her silence made my heart pound even harder.

In a moment of anger mixed with curiosity, I decided to lift the blanket. And the moment I did… what appeared before my eyes froze my blood and broke my heart.

Marisol’s body was covered in old scars, long and short, etched on her back, arms, and legs. I stood motionless, my heart clenched as if someone were strangling it. I looked up at my wife’s face: her eyes were closed and tears streamed down her cheeks, as if she were awaiting imminent judgment.

I immediately dropped the blanket and knelt in front of her, my voice breaking:
“Marisol… forgive me! I was wrong… Please, forgive me!”

She opened her eyes, surprised. Perhaps she hadn’t expected that reaction. With trembling hands, I took hers and whispered,
“What do these scars mean? What happened to you? Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

After a long silence, Marisol began to recount her story between sobs. Before she met me, she had a childhood marked by pain. Her parents died when she was a child, and she was sent to live with distant relatives. But instead of receiving affection, they treated her like a burden, forced her to work tirelessly, and cruelly abused her. Every scar on her body was a reminder of that dark past.

As she grew up, Marisol tried to escape that nightmare and lead a normal life. However, the memories remained etched deep in her heart, filling her with fear, shame, and doubt that anyone could ever truly love her. When she agreed to marry me, she was happy, but also terrified. And on that wedding night, the ghosts of her past returned, preventing her from surrendering herself to the moment.

Upon hearing her, I hugged her tightly. My tears fell onto her shoulder. I whispered in her ear,
“That past doesn’t define who you are today. To me, you are the most precious woman in the world. Your scars don’t diminish your beauty; on the contrary, they make me love and respect you even more.”

Marisol burst into tears in my arms, clinging to my shirt as if she could finally release the weight she had carried for so long. That wedding night, instead of being one of pleasure like in other marriages, became a night of understanding and profound union.

From then on, I learned to value Marisol even more. I understood that true love doesn’t mean perfection, but rather accepting and protecting each other’s wounds. I didn’t care about her past; all I wanted was to build a future with her where those scars would become nothing more than a distant memory.

Years later, when she remembered that night, Marisol still blushed. I just smiled, because I understood that the moment I lifted the blanket not only revealed a hidden truth to me, but also taught me what true love means.

The wedding night—the beginning of a life together—was not marked by flowers or wine, but by shared tears and an eternal promise: no matter how painful the past, the future would always find us holding hands until the end of our days.