Runaway Fiancés | ONC 2023 (Complete)

Ten - Marcos

Keeping my distance from this woman is impossible.

Not actually impossible. Putting the distance of a small town between us took only a short walk through the trees. But the time has come to return to the house and rest for the evening.

Each step I take toward her hopefully sleeping form brings my heart racing even faster.

So putting distance between us wasn't impossible, but putting her out of my mind? That is a much more difficult story. Thoughts of her consume me.

Even walking the entire estate twice, despite the sweat and exhaustion it has caused, has done absolutely nothing to rid me of her.

I kick at the dirt, sending a rock plummeting into the darkened pond. The light is so low now there is no way I can stay any longer. I have to go back inside and into the room I'll share with my... wife. Whose non-existent dress will surely be laying about with no concern to how it will affect me.

I begin reciting the poets to take my mind off everything. I need to get my head attached so we can get out of here in one piece. We can worry about her 'actually getting married' idea later. Though I admit the idea is tempting, she probably should know what she's working with here before she decides.

It doesn't take nearly long enough for me to traverse what's left of the path and pass through the corridor still lit by now-replaced candlelight.

The door stands strong, flickering lights dancing across the intricate carvings. I should knock, but I don't, remembering this is supposed to be my room.

I do close my eyes, though, until I get inside and turn my back to the room, opening my eyes to push the door closed.

"Catalina?" I ask.

Silence greets me.

"Catalina, are you here?"

Again, she doesn't answer. Slowly, I turn to face the wall, glancing out of the corner of my eye at the rest of the outer room.

Nothing but stillness. Good. Maybe I'll get some sleep. I loosen the fabric at my neck, pulling my overcoat off and draping it on the back of a chair. Soon, my boots and outerwear are discarded in favour of my sleeping clothes.

I snuff out the candle Catalina must have left lit for me and wander into the main area, choosing the largest couch and sinking down into the middle of it.

But it isn't just couch I've sat down on. It's a pile of soft fabric. Has Catalina left me a blanket? There's something so familiar about the feel of it, even in the darkness.

When I pull, it moves only a little before getting stuck. But the movement is enough to send the smell of her wafting around the whole room.

Catalina Juárez will be the end of me.

She's left her dress here to torture me as I suspected she would. I ball up the fabric and throw it onto the smaller settee, setting my aching sore body down on the couch once more and laying back.

And then, before my eyes can even drift closed, the door opens again.

I'm on my feet in seconds, reaching for something heavy to use as a weapon if necessary and racing to the door Catalina is resting behind. "Come no closer," I warn the shadowy figure in the hall.

"Marcos?" Catalina whispers. But she isn't behind me, she's in the corridor.

"What are you doing out there?" I ask, abandoning the small statue I've picked up and racing across the room, stubbing my toe on some type of table leg or carpet runner.