Marcelo
The driver’s words—“Don’t worry, ya mollycoddled worthless waste of space. Your ordeal will soon be over.”—in a different context, uttered with a less menacing tone, might have been reassuring. But instead, Marcelo’s body went rigid. He had never considered that one could be dizzy while lying prone, but indeed, that was how he felt.
Marcelo closed his eyes and pictured Efren as he’d entered their bedchamber—was it really just two nights ago?—and the wide, reassuring grin he’d beamed at Marcelo. From their first glimpse of each other, Efren had been nothing but respectful and considerate.
Since he’d been five years old, Efren had known he would someday have to marry Marcelo’s twin, Marcela—or should she die prematurely, he could choose from among Marcela’s younger siblings. It wa
