Falling For You in the Wrong Century

CHAPTER 10: THE TRAGEDY

The sky is dark and heavy with clouds when I make my way to the banyan tree that afternoon. It’s been raining on and off all morning, turning the dirt roads to thick mud, but Romano and I had planned to meet—he said he had something important to tell me, something that might change everything. I pull my shawl tighter around my shoulders, watching the rain begin to fall harder, each drop hitting the ground with a sound like tiny drums.

I’ve been waiting for nearly an hour when a figure emerges from the mist, but it’s not Romano. It’s Juancho, his fine suit dark with rain, his face twisted with a rage so intense it makes my blood run cold.

“Romano won’t be coming,” he says, his voice low and menacing as he steps closer. Water drips from his hair onto his shirt, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “I told you to leave him, but you wouldn’t listen. You thought your little love story could stand against the way things are supposed to be. Now you’ll pay for your stubbornness.”

Before I can move—before I can even scream—he pulls out a knife from his coat, the blade catching what little light breaks through the clouds. “He’s gone,” he continues, his eyes wild and glassy. “I found him on his way here, walking through the rice fields to avoid the main road. We talked—tried to make him see reason. But he refused to let you go. So I made sure he’ll never see you again. No one takes what’s mine—not even a poor farmer who thinks he can have the woman I want.”

I launch myself at him without thinking, my hands clawing at his face as I scream Romano’s name. But he’s too strong—he shoves me aside with one hand, and I hit the hard ground, my head striking a stone. Stars burst across my vision, and pain shoots through my skull as I try to push myself up. That’s when I see her—Trinidad, standing in the shadows under a nearby mango tree, her red silk dress hidden by a dark cloak. She’s holding an umbrella, watching everything with a satisfied smile on her face. She’d known what Juancho planned to do. She’d let it happen—maybe even encouraged it.

“Good riddance,” Trinidad says, walking over to stand above me. Rainwater drips from the edge of her umbrella onto my face, mixing with my tears. “Now he’s mine, as he should have been all along. And you… you can disappear like you never existed. No one will miss a woman with no family, no home, no name. This town will forget you by next week.”

She turns and walks away, Juancho following close behind, leaving me alone in the pouring rain. I crawl toward the street, my hands and knees sinking into the mud, calling Romano’s name over and over again. But the rain is too loud, washing away my voice, and no one comes to help. I can feel blood seeping from the cut on my head, mixing with the water and mud, and a sharp pain in my chest—so intense it feels like my heart is breaking into a million pieces.

I close my eyes, my body growing cold as the rain beats down on me, and I think of all the moments we shared—his laugh, the way he’d pick wildflowers for me, the feel of his hand in mine. I think of the life we could have had, and tears stream down my face as I whisper his name one last time. When I open my eyes again, I’m not lying in the mud— I’m in the narra rocking chair on the veranda, Linda bending over me, her face pale with worry as she shakes my shoulders.

“Señorita! You’re crying and screaming in your sleep—what’s wrong? You’ve been tossing and turning for hours!”

I look around, my body shaking uncontrollably. The rain is falling here too, streaking down the capiz windows, but there’s no mud, no knife, no Trinidad or Juancho. The old street outside is empty, just as it always is. But the pain in my heart is real—so real it feels like I can barely breathe—and I know, with every fiber of my being, that even if it was just a dream, I’ve lost the love of my life.