Your wedding passed by in a blur of tight clothes and forced smiles. As you were carted off to the countryside with nothing but the dress on your back, you couldn't stop replaying the memory of your last encounter with Bruno over and over in your mind. Would he ever forgive you for abandoning him?
Iago made his true intentions known the moment you stepped over the threshold of his sombre abode. You were forced into a corner as he lectured you about the new ground rules he put in place.
"As my wife, your safety is my utmost concern. So, from now on, you're not to leave this house without my permission. And when you are permitted to leave, you mustn't go without an escort," Iago explained.
"I understand," you meekly replied.
Iago slithered behind you and snaked his hand around your waist.
"I knew you would, mi premio. There's only one last thing I want you to do for me," he said.
"What?"
"Promise me you won't ever talk to that wretch, Bruno. Or any other man for that matter."
"I promise..."
"Good," said Iago. He pressed a cold kiss on your lips. He pulled back and you hung your head. It repulsed you to look at him.
"I'll show you to our room."
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From that day on, your wedding ring acted as the cuff that chained you to your callous husband. Visits to the encanto were so scarce and heavily monitored that you eventually stopped going altogether. Iago was more than happy to board you up in the house so long as you still performed your wifely duties.
Some days, while Iago was out doing god knows what, you gazed out the window that overlooked the valley. In the distance, you could just make out the terraced rooftops and cobblestone bridges of the encanto. You imagined Bruno was still looking for you. Searching every marketplace and peering around every palm tree. You often daydreamed about coming to the window one day to find him standing outside looking up at you. But you pushed the thought away. After all, it was only a silly fantasy.
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As the years dragged on, Iago started staying out later and later. It became commonplace for him to stumble into the house in the early hours of the morning, reeking of liquor and slurring his speech. He wasn't a sentimental drunk either. Locking yourself in the bathroom until he calmed down became another part of your daily routine.
One fateful night, Iago fell off a large ravine in a drunken stupor on his way back home. Villagers from the next town over found his corpse floating in the river the next morning.
Old habits really did die hard.
Only six people turned up to his funeral; you, the four pallbearers and the priest. The sun shone brilliantly as your dearly detested's coffin was lowered into his grave. You liked to imagine Pepa was thinking about you.
You hitched a ride on the back of a generous farmhand's cart to the encanto. You didn't realise how long you were gone. Where there were once patches of land now stood new houses and stores. You didn't recognise anyone at all. Until you saw a familiar face among the crowd.
