The night was completely magical, full of passion and warmth on the cold winter nights. Clarisse was still asleep and the sunrise was already appearing through the window of the room. Mark left home at six o'clock in the morning, leaving a small note on the table: "Tonight must be special, my parents will come to visit. I will present you as the love of my life, your fiancée.
Ten o'clock in the morning, Clarisse was already awake and preparing everything for dinner with the family. Cleaning, cooking, tidying up, all the work would bear fruit, sharing a special night was priceless.
— What?! —Clarisse said, letting go of the phone.— I'll be right there!
At six o'clock in the afternoon she received a call from the military hospital, announcing that her husband had been hit by a bullet generated by a meeting on the outskirts of his work. The streets of Barcelona had become unstable since the protests started a couple of weeks ago. Clarisse felt her night collapse.
Once in the hospital, she could see the faces of Marcos' relatives, some known, others not so well, and she could observe a doctor talking with her mother-in-law, Fabiana.
— Fortunately, no organ was affected. —said the surgeon.— However, he must remain in observation.
Clarisse could not believe the situation, even though her husband was well, she was still thinking about the fact that she had been with him the night before. She could not help but think that she had asked him to stay, to keep him between his white sheets, together in the dark. Now all that remained was the option of spending the upcoming Christmas, surrounded by a halo of depression and sadness that did not favor the holiday celebrations.
In her mind, Clarisse thought of everything that had happened, she was afraid: "What if I didn't wake up? What would happen if a hemorrhage occurs? I couldn't say I loved him..."
The situation wasn't over yet, not until I woke up, not until I was well.
Without further ado, she fell asleep, lying in the belly of her fiancé, hoping to leave everything immersed in a dream.
Twelve o'clock was made and the hospital wards were filled with noise, a well-known noise characteristic of festivities, bagpipes and parrandas. Clarisse awoke exalted as she watched the festivities behind the door of the room.
— What's going on? —she wondered.
Suddenly the door opened and the room was filled with people. There were the parents, siblings, cousins and other acquaintances of the family, full of presents, food and ornaments.
— Clarisse! —said Mrs. Fabiana as she approached.
— What's going on? —Clarisse shouted, rising suddenly from her seat.
— Don't worry, sit down and we'll talk. —An older man replied, who could well be her boyfriend's father.
Quickly they sat down next to me, talking about the situation, explaining the reason for the celebration.
— We have decided to accompany them here at the hospital. —said Fabiana.— If Mark still can't get out, then we can come.
— Rejoice Clarisse! —said Mr. Romulus, Mark's father.— Our little Sea will be fine.
— I understand... —Clarisse replied.— But what will happen to Mark?
Slowly a hand took his and Clarisse saw the face of a doctor who was staring at her.
— Miss... —he said.— You must leave...
Ten months had passed since that event, months in which Clarisse continued to redound in that last sentence he said to Mark's parents. His days had become a martyrdom, he traveled almost daily to the hospital, sat by the same bed, then went to the cemetery and watched the gray and cold tombstone covered with flowers.
There was nothing left, she felt alone, unable to tell her fiancé: this is your son, Diego.