“My name is Isabel.”

“I’m Daniel,” I replied.

We talked for a long time about those we’ve lost. He told me about Gabriela, happy, hopeful, passionate about music. What I was talking about was Mariana, her kindness, her altruism. There was sadness in our eyes, certainly, but also a caring affection as we recalled happy memories.

The next day, my wedding to Laura took place, surrounded by family and friends. She shone white, and everyone congratulated us on finding happiness again.
But deep inside, the image of Isabel in the cemetery still resonated.

Fate, uncertain and doubtful, crossed our paths again.

I learned she worked for a company that provided for me. In a meeting, she barely whispered,

“Daniel…”

We had coffee after work. Isabel told me:

“Since Gabriela d:ied, I’ve taken refuge in work. But there are nights when I cry for no reason. That day at the cemetery, I felt I wasn’t alone in my sadness.”