//CLARA//
Felipe's carriage waited at the curb like a hearse for a life I almost wanted.
I stood on the marble steps, hands clasped tightly to keep them from shaking.
He turned to me, his smile soft and laden.
"This is it, then," he said.
"This is it."
He stepped forward and opened his arms.
"May I?"
I didn't hesitate and stepped into his embrace one last time.
"Write to me," he murmured against my hair. "Tell me about the orphanage, about your factory. Tell me when you're happy. And if the world ever leaves you lonely… or if he proves unworthy of the heart you've given him… you know where I'll be. I'll keep a light burning, just in case."
I laughed through the lump in my throat. "You'll be in Cuba."
"After Cuba," he promised, kissing my forehead.
"Be safe," I whispered.
Then he was gone, the carriage wheels crunching over the gravel until the sound bled into the distance.
I felt hollow. And then, I felt the eyes.
