Alberto Márquez

Alberto was still in his office when night had completely fallen. His desk was covered in papers, contracts, and unresolved orders that seemed to multiply with each passing minute. The clutter perfectly reflected the state of his mind: overwhelmed, restless, and without peace. But none of that was what was truly robbing him of his peace.

The wedding to Cristina haunted him like a shadow. The agreement with his father had been clear and direct : marriage in exchange for the money the company desperately needed to survive. Alberto had accepted without much discussion, knowing he had no room to refuse. It was a practical, almost inevitable decision. Even so, now that he was alone, the weight of that pact felt suffocating. Cristina wasn't indifferent to him. He appreciated her, respected her, he could even say he cared for her. But he wasn't in love with her, and that truth bothered him more than he was willing to admit. Marriage should be a sincere commitment, not a transaction disguised as a promise. And yet, there he was, ready to cross that line. He rested his elbows on the desk and ran a hand over his face. He needed the money. The company depended on it. There was no room for doubt or idealized feelings. Even so, a part of him couldn't help but wonder how much he was willing to sacrifice before losing himself in the attempt.