An elderly couple stood quietly, apart from the crowd.
The man was frail, silver hair thinning, his frame trembling as he leaned on a worn cane. The woman clutched a faded cloth bag to her chest, her sorrowful eyes locked on Javier. Their clothes were humble, patched and faded, completely out of place among the silk gowns and tailored suits.
A chill crept over me. Who were they?
Leaning toward Javier, I whispered, “Darling, who are those people? Why are they here?”
He flinched, then muttered quickly, “Probably vagrants who sneaked inside. I’ll have them removed.”
I stopped him. “No, wait. Let me ask them to sit. They’re elderly. Poor souls—let them rest.”
Before I could move, my mother seized my arm, irritation flashing in her eyes. “Mariana! Don’t let strangers spoil this day. Call the guards.”
I pleaded softly, “Mom, please. They’re doing no harm.”
But it was too late. Waiters were already escorting the couple out. They didn’t protest. They simply bowed their heads, trembling, and stood outside the hall without even a chair to sit on. My chest ached, but the ceremony swept forward, pulling me with it.
During the banquet, Javier kept glancing toward the entrance, his hands fidgeting restlessly. I couldn’t shake the image of the couple waiting outside.
