After that night, the preparations for the wedding—or rather, the ceremony—moved swiftly. Days blurred together until, almost before anyone realized, the day of their union arrived.
As tradition required, Francisco was the first to reach the church. The priest greeted him with a kind smile, and the nuns assisted quietly from the side. Yet Francisco couldn't help noticing that the nun who had once given him advice was nowhere to be seen.
He greeted the servants warmly and spoke with them while waiting for the ceremony to begin. Carlos had done well, hiring someone to play the organ and arranging for the local children to form a small choir.
When the first notes of the organ echoed through the stone church, everyone took their seats. Francisco stood at the altar, his hands clasped, waiting for his future wife. The scent of wax and incense hung in the air.
Catalina's dress wasn't extravagant—there hadn't been enough time for that—but the simple white fabric, soft as milk, caught the candlelight beautifully. To Francisco, she was radiant. He smiled as he saw her walking down the aisle beside his father, the rhythm of the organ guiding their steps.
When they reached the altar, Carlos leaned toward his son and whispered with a serious expression,
"I love you, my son—but if you ever hurt her, I'll remind you that age doesn't matter. I can still give you a good spanking."
Catalina, teary-eyed, chuckled softly. Her gaze toward Francisco seemed to say, "See? You can't bully me. I have someone who'll defend me."
Francisco was speechless. He wanted to shout, "I'm your son!" but instead managed to say with a sheepish smile,
"Don't worry. I'll love her for the rest of my life. And if someday you ever see me hurting her, I'll accept the spanking."
Carlos nodded with satisfaction and placed Catalina's hand into his son's. The two faced each other, smiling through their nerves.
The priest raised his voice:
"In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti."
Everyone crossed themselves in solemn silence.
"Brothers and sisters in Christ, we are gathered today before God, His blessed Church, and these witnesses, to unite in sacred marriage Francisco Gómez and Catalina Ortega. This union, though not grand in ceremony, is not a mere pact of convenience, but a bond of souls between these two young hearts.
Let no one enter such a union with fear, but with will and the purity of the heart.
Before we proceed, I must ask—do you both come here freely, without coercion or deceit, to be joined in holy marriage under the law of God and His Church?"
Catalina smiled through her tears.
"Yes."
The priest turned to Francisco.
"Yes," Francisco answered, his voice steady.
The priest nodded.
"I have been told both parties wish to exchange vows."
Francisco took a folded piece of paper from his coat. His hands trembled slightly, but his eyes were firm.
"Catalina," he began, "since the days of our childhood, when you defended me from those scions in Bogotá—the children who mocked me for being a bastard or for our family's work as merchants—I knew your nobility was greater than any title or lineage.
I've spent my life seeking truth in all things—from the crafts of blacksmiths to the logic of machines. Maybe that search has only just begun, but one truth I'm certain of is my love for you. I've feared for you, for the world, and for what lies ahead—but if life is an unknown formula, then you are my constant. I swear to love you not as a scientist, but as a man willing to go as deep as it takes for what he loves."
The servants, moved by his words, began to clap softly. Catalina smiled through her tears.
Carlos leaned toward a servant and whispered,
"I never thought Catalina would be such a crybaby."
The servant behind him chuckled,
"Me neither. She was always the toughest child. If anyone teased Francisco, she made them cry first."
Carlos grinned.
"Indeed. I always saw you and the others as the real crybabies."
The servant blushed, stifling a laugh.
When Catalina finally managed to speak, she said,
"Francisco, when everyone called you a dreamer, I saw a man who could turn mud into stone and aguardiente into art. When you awoke from that accident, I was terrified of losing you. I didn't know what was best—whether to follow you or do nothing. But when you confessed your feelings, I decided I would become your shield, as I was when we were children.
You were my home when the world was strange. You might not remember, but the first time your father welcomed me, I was terrified—it was your smile that warmed my heart. So believe me when I say I am not afraid of the journey, nor of the winter, nor of the society that disapproves of us. I only fear being unable to follow you.
I promise to be your strength when reason leaves you, and your calm when passion overwhelms you. If you must defy the world, let it be with me beside you. I was not born to watch you from afar, but to walk with you—even if the sun itself falls upon us."
The priest was visibly moved but maintained his composure.
"If your love is as true as your vows, may the Lord bless this union and protect it from misfortune. Dominus vobiscum."
"Et cum spiritu tuo," the congregation replied.
He joined their hands as a symbol of unity. The choir began to sing, and the church filled with music and light. Everyone rose, clapping and embracing them.
After the ceremony, they returned to the innfor a modest but joyful dinner. There would be no wedding night—Carlos forbade it, and Francisco agreed. They were only seventeen, too young, and Francisco, remembering his mother's fate, had developed an aversion to early pregnancy. Besides, their journey to Germany awaited, and they both agreed to remain chaste until their official wedding upon return.
That night, they shared laughter, a sumptuous meal, and quiet contentment before retiring to their rooms. The day of their new journey was already drawing near.