Episode 2

✧ Laura Campbell ✧

I thought I could possibly be happy away from Cristian. The truth is, I tried. I swear to God, I tried.

Five years ago, I left everything behind—our house, our plans, our history. I abandoned Cristian, the man who was always my refuge, my peace, my home, because of my family.

They were never part of this world here. They lived in the city, in an expensive neighborhood, one where no one gets their shoes dirty, where money speaks louder than any feeling.

They always treated me like a display doll, expecting me to marry some suited executive and not a cowboy with a big soul and calloused hands.

My mother hated Cristian from day one. She said he was a brute, a man too simple for my future.

"You deserve more than a cowboy with dirt under his nails and the smell of horse on his body," she repeated, as if it were a prayer.

My father pretended to accept, but all it took was a setback, a comma out of place, for him to throw in my face that I was "throwing my life away."

"You were raised for more, Laura. More than living in the middle of nowhere with a man who lives to take care of animals."

Even so, I stayed with him.

I chose Cristian every day. Every sideways glance. Every silent dinner. Every veiled criticism. Until the day I couldn't bear the weight of the choice.

It was the eve of our wedding.

The dress was ready, hanging in the closet at home. A simple, delicate dress, with lace details that I chose myself thinking of him. We were happy. Anxious.

That night, my father fell ill. A high blood pressure crisis, chest pains. Almost a heart attack.

And in the hospital, with the cold lights and the smell of disinfectant, my mother looked me in the eyes with all the coldness she carried and said:

"You're killing your father. Marrying that man will ruin your family. Is that what you want?"

That sentence cut me inside.

I spent the night in a hard chair, trembling, guilty, broken.

When I got home, I already knew what I was going to do. I couldn't breathe just imagining walking down that aisle with the weight of being the cause of my family's ruin.

I climbed the stairs with wobbly legs. I entered the room that was ours for the last time. He wasn't there, he was in the city. I sat on the edge of the bed where we slept so many times intertwined, and wrote a letter with trembling hands.

"Sorry. I need to go. I can't marry you. Take care of yourself."

I folded the paper and left it on the bedside table.

And I left. Without the courage to look back.

...✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ...

Two weeks later, I found out I was pregnant. It was Cristian's. It could only be his.

My feet faltered when I saw the positive test. I sat on the cold floor of my parents' house in the big city, and cried like a child.

I cried for myself, for him, for the baby, and for the love I threw away.

I thought about calling. Writing. Coming back.

But pride…

Ah, that damn pride tied me down.

And as always, my mother made a point of poisoning everything:

"This child will be yours alone. You don't need that man. He was going to trap you in that poor life, on that dirty farm. You deserve more. And if you think about calling him, I'll take that child from you, and leave him in an orphanage somewhere."

And once again, I remained silent, for the good of my baby.

Miguel was born nine months later.

Tiny, fair-skinned, deep brown eyes. He had the same way of frowning when something bothered him, the same stubborn silence. He was Cristian in miniature.

And yet, I hid the truth.

I didn't put the father's name on the certificate.

I didn't tell anyone.

I faked strength when only fear existed.

And every time Miguel looks at me, I see the father he doesn't know.

The father I took from him.

Now, five years later, I'm back.

Back to where it all began.

With my son beside me, holding my hand innocently, unaware of how much his little face can break hearts—especially the heart of the man who was once mine.

I was invited to the auction at Lone Star Ranch. They say it's the biggest in the region. I accepted without thinking much. Maybe on a whim, out of longing. Maybe, deep down, I knew he would be there.

I dressed simply. Jeans, white blouse, hair loose.

Nothing but the truth.

And I went.

As soon as I arrived, I felt everything wash over me at once: The smell of hot earth, the sound of the horses, the dust dancing in the wind, the drawn-out voices, the tall hats, the boots hitting firmly on the gravel ground.

And then… I saw him.

Cristian.

My heart skipped a beat.

Nothing changed. Or rather, it did.

He's more of a man. More firm. Wider shoulders. Harder look.

Time hasn't aged him. It has sculpted him. But the eyes… the eyes no longer had the same sweetness. There was no tenderness. There was no hope. Only coldness. Maybe it was because of the pain of losing his father two years ago, or because of my departure.

I wanted to run to him. Say everything.

But he looked at me as if I were nothing.

As if the love we had was just a blur in his past. And that hurt.

I held Miguel's hand tighter, trying to stay steady. He didn't even notice. He was playing with his own toy hat, distracted by the horses neighing in the distance.

Later, already at the simple inn where I'm staying with Miguel, I waited for him to fall asleep.

After a warm bath and a badly told story, he passed out.

I picked up my cell phone. I opened the gallery.

I scrolled through the photos until I found that one.

Miguel at two years old, on top of a pony horse, smiling sideways, holding a blade of grass in his mouth, the way his father did.

I touched the screen. A tear fell.

Cristian deserves to know.

Miguel deserves to know.

But… what if he hates me?

What if he looks at me with that same look from today, as if I were just any woman?

As if everything we lived through was worth nothing?

My fingers squeezed the cell phone tightly.

The truth is, I'm scared.

Scared of what I caused.

Scared of not being able to fix it.

Scared that too much time has passed.

Scared that he's right to hate me.

But above all… I'm afraid of Miguel growing up and asking:

"Mom, who is my dad?"

And I don't know what to answer. Or worse… Having to lie. I still love him so much, I never stopped loving him, I never let another man into my life, not for lack of options, but because my heart still belongs to that man who was my first in everything.

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