The white dress was stained with tears and dust.
Nobody cared.
The groom remained silent.
Nobody knew what he would do.
Cancel the wedding?
Take the child away?
Pretend nothing happened?
Then he approached…
and did not lift the bride up.
He crouched down in front of Iktan, reaching his level.
—Would you like to stay… and eat with us? —he asked gently.
Iktan shook his head.
—I… I just want my mom.
The man smiled.
And he hugged them both.
—Then… if you want…
from today you will have a mother…
and also a father.
The bride looked at him, incredulous, crying.
Aren’t you angry with me?
I hid my past from you…
“I didn’t marry your past,” he whispered. ”
I married the woman I love.
And I love you even more knowing how much you suffered.”
That wedding ceased to be luxurious.
It stopped being elegant.
It became something sacred.
The guests began to applaud, through tears.
They weren’t celebrating a wedding.
They were celebrating a reunion.
Iktan took his mother’s hand.
And the hand of the man who had just called him “son”.
There were no more rich or poor.
No differences.
Just a whisper in the child’s heart:
“Don Eusebio… do you see?
I’ve found my mother…”
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