“Stay and Soothe My Son,” the Widower Pleaded… She Never Imagined What Would Come Next

Chapter 7

Rosa shook her head, uncertain.

“I don’t know. Maybe she wants to make sure I don’t come back. Maybe there’s something more I still don’t understand. Eustolia never does anything without a reason that benefits her.”

Ezequiel listened in silence, storing each word, though something inside him told him that explanation wasn’t complete — that Rosa was still hiding part of the story. But it wasn’t the moment to insist.

“While you’re here, no one is going to take you by force,” he said with a firmness that surprised even Rosa. “I promise you.”

The days that followed brought a new tension to the ranch, different from the calm they had built until then. Rosa became more cautious, avoiding going out alone to the road, startling at any unexpected noise.

One night, while they were arranging the kitchen together after dinner, Rosa stopped suddenly with her eyes full of contained tears.

“Maybe I should go,” she said without looking at him. “I don’t want to bring problems to you or to the boy.”

Ezequiel stopped what he was doing and approached her.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he said in a soft but decided voice. “Not out of fear and certainly not because of me. This ranch has room for you, and Miguelito needs you as much as I do.”

Rosa looked at him, surprised by the firmness of his words. Something in the way he looked at her told her that this wasn’t merely gratitude or compassion. It was something deeper — something that both had been avoiding naming for weeks.

“Thank you,” she whispered finally, wiping a tear from the back of her hand. “No one had defended me like that in a long time.”

Ezequiel didn’t respond with words. He simply held her gaze a moment longer than usual, before both returned in silence to finish the night’s tasks, with the weight of what was coming still floating between them.

The following Sunday, Ezequiel decided he could no longer keep waiting for half-answers. He asked Rosa to accompany him to town along with Miguelito, thinking that being together in broad daylight in front of everyone would be better than continuing to hide from something they would sooner or later have to face.

Rosa accepted, though with a tight heart. She dressed carefully, arranged her cloth over her head as she usually did, and set out with Ezequiel along the dirt road that led to the town plaza, with Miguelito wrapped in a light blanket in her arms.

The town, as every Sunday, was full of people. Families came out from mass, merchants tended their stalls, and children ran between the carts. Ezequiel walked with Rosa at his side, feeling the curious gazes of those who had already heard the rumors, but determined not to be intimidated by them.

It was then that they saw her — standing in front of the church, dressed in rigid black, with a hard expression that contrasted with the warmth of the day. There was an older woman with a sharp face and penetrating gaze. Beside her, the town official, a man with a thick mustache and serious attitude, observed the crowd with his hands on his waist.

Rosa stopped dead, instinctively pressing Miguelito against her chest.

“It’s her,” she whispered with a broken voice. “It’s Eustolia.”

Ezequiel followed her gaze and immediately understood that the encounter both had feared for weeks had finally arrived.

Eustolia saw them approaching and a cold, almost triumphant smile drew itself on her face. She walked toward them with a firm step, followed closely by the official, while several curious townspeople began stopping, sensing that something important was about to happen.

“Well, well,” said Eustolia with a voice loud enough for everyone around her to hear. “So here’s where you were hiding, Rosa. After everything you did, I thought you would at least have the decency not to let yourself be seen in public.”

A murmur spread among those present. Rosa felt her legs tremble, but Ezequiel placed himself slightly in front of her like a silent shield.

“What is it you want?” asked Ezequiel with a firm voice, directing himself straight to Eustolia.

“What I want is justice,” she replied with an expression of feigned indignation. “This woman left my house taking things that didn’t belong to her — valuable objects that belonged to my late husband, her father — and now I find her living under the roof of an unknown man, as if nothing had happened.”

“That’s a lie,” exclaimed Rosa, finally finding her voice, though trembling. “You threw me out of that house with nothing more than the clothes on my back. I didn’t take anything that wasn’t mine.”

“That’s not what the documents I have say,” responded Eustolia with calculated calm, taking a folded paper from her bag that she waved in front of those present, without really showing it closely to anyone. “Here is the proof of what I say.”

The official, uncomfortable with the scene forming in front of the church, intervened.

“Ma’am, if you have a formal accusation, this must be resolved properly — not here in the middle of the plaza.”