Don Tomás, 70, was a wealthy peasant in a rural town in Oaxaca. He had had a first wife, Doña Rosa, who died ten years earlier, leaving him three daughters already married. Despite his advanced age, Don Tomás still dreamed of having a son who would bear his surname and continue with the family line, a desire that for him remained unfulfilled.

That’s why she decided to marry again. The chosen one was Marisol, a 20-year-old girl, daughter of a poor family in the same town. Marisol was pretty and fresh as spring, but misery had hit her hard. His parents, in need of money to pay off debts and pay for their youngest son’s medical treatment, agreed to give her up in exchange for a large sum of money.
Although she did not want it, Marisol accepted the marriage out of love for her family. On the eve of the wedding, with tears in her eyes, she said to her mother,
“I just hope he treats me well… I will do my duty.”

The wedding was simple but striking, because Don Tomás wanted the whole town to know that he was still “strong” and ready to father a child. The neighbors murmured, criticized the large age difference, but he didn’t care. He smiled satisfied, eagerly preparing for the wedding night, confident that Marisol would soon become pregnant. She, although resigned, tried to appear happy to fulfill her role.

The wedding night arrived. Don Tomás, elegantly dressed, drank some medicinal liquor that, according to him, would make him feel young again. He took Marisol’s hand and led it into the room, his eyes full of expectation. She nervously forced a smile, afraid of disappointing him.

The atmosphere became intimate. Don Tomás was whispering words of affection to her, when suddenly, his face contracted, his breathing agitated. He let go of Marisol’s hand, put the other to his chest and fell heavily on the bed.

—”Don Tomás! What’s wrong with him?” Marisol shouted, her eyes full of fright.

He tried to hold it, but his body was already stiff, drenched in sweat. A hoarse moan came from her throat, shaking the young woman.

The image of the liquor he had drunk minutes before crossed his mind: what he relied on to “rejuvenate” had become a silent poison.

Desperate, Marisol asked for help. Don Tomás’ daughters and other relatives burst into the room, finding the old man motionless and the young bride crying, lost in the confusion.

That night was a chaos of screaming, running and crying. Don Tomás was taken to the hospital, but the doctors could only confirm the worst: he had suffered a fulminant heart attack due to the effort and age.

The news spread throughout the town. The people, who were already murmuring about that unequal marriage, now spoke louder. Some felt sorry for Marisol, others mocked:
“He didn’t even manage to give her a child… destiny is just.”

Marisol remained silent, with a lost look. I remembered his words: “I will do my duty.” But that duty never began; It all ended with a tragedy that no one had foreseen.

After the funeral, the money received from the wedding was enough to pay off her family’s debts and her brother’s treatment. But in exchange, Marisol carried a cruel fate: to be a widow at the age of twenty, forever marked as “the second wife of Don Tomás”.

The wedding night, which was supposed to be the beginning of an engagement full of pressures and expectations, ended up becoming the last night of a man’s life… and at the beginning of the heavy cross that a young woman would have to carry for the rest of her days.