B-ronken-R-ing 159...

Days slipped by with agonizing slowness. Arondra and Raúl had relayed that Cárcel promised to return within ten days, yet fifteen had elapsed without a sign of him. Inés found herself drawn to the small corner room on the second floor, looking down at the path that led to the residence, day after day.

The room, once used by the child of an officer in years past, had been transformed into a storage room for Inés and Cárcel's important belongings. It had been their only option, given the modest size of the residence. There was a diminutive desk sitting by the window, which had probably been placed there for the child once they grew a bit older. Inés had asked Kara to clean it up to utilize it as a reading space. From there, she could see the entirety of the path tracing its way up Logorño Hill from the rear of the residence.

Now she sat at that same desk with a book lying open in front of her. Her eyes flitted from the path to the pages of the book, where they often wandered aimlessly. Occasionally, she closed her eyes in silent prayer. Although her heart was at peace for the most part, a paralyzing fear seized her at times. As dusk settled, she could only think about the fact that Cárcel had still not returned. The days dragged on, and though it had only been a few days, it felt like an eternity. Worse yet, she could not help but imagine that all of this waiting might end in grief and disaster. All of this was something that she had experienced before, one she was weary of enduring. However, she had no recourse but to wait for Cárcel's return.

Time marched on, heedless of her distress. One morning, the sun found Inés sitting at the desk, hands clasped in prayer. It was the same routine she had followed for more than a week now. When she opened her eyes, however, she saw a rider on a black horse, trotting up the path to the residence. His blond hair sparkled under the sunlight, like an ethereal vision that would vanish once she blinked. The rosary slipped from her fingers, and the book tumbled to the floor as she sprang to her feet. None of it registered in her head.

She burst through the doors and raced down the stairs. Raúl's eyes widened in pure shock and Arondra gasped in surprise, but she swept past them and through the hallway. Flinging open the front doors, she saw the gates hanging ajar. He's here! she thought, her heart beating in her ears. He's returned safe and sound!

Without hesitation, she sprinted to the stable, her feet barely touching the ground as if the very winds of fate propelled her forward. There, she found Cárcel, his back turned as he secured his horse to a post. Oh, Cárcel... It's truly you. Inés did not stop until she reached him, throwing her arms around him in a fierce embrace.

"Inés...?" Cárcel uttered, his voice laced with disbelief, as though he feared he might be dreaming.

His back tensed under her touch.

Inés found his reaction quite endearing. It's only natural he is taken aback, she mused to herself with a hint of pride. He could not have anticipated such a precious gift upon his return. With this thought, she gazed up at the back of his neck, taut with surprise. Indeed, this must be an overwhelming moment for him.

It was a curious how her heart found solace simply in the sight of his hair. Back when he had made that unannounced appearance at the evening party in Mendoza, she had felt like she could finally breathe again. Now, embracing him in Calztela, she felt grounded, as if she was only just starting to be aware of her surroundings. Even the distant rhythmic crash of waves against the cliff rang foreign in her ears, as if she had been deaf until this moment. Her entire being thrummed with joy. A part of her knew that she was acting like a fool, but she could not deny the truth of her heart.

Inés had been living in a waking dream ever since she arrived in Calztela without Cárcel. Her nights were restless, and she murmured resentful prayers to God. She spent hours and hours staring down the winding path, yearning for his return. Those days had stretched on-although she prayed, ate, and conversed with others, she had done so mechanically, drained of vitality.

But now, at last, she felt like she had awakened from a long slumber. She felt alive again.

Quietly, she pressed her forehead against Cárcel's back. She could smell the mingled scents of wind and earth clinging to his morning coat, a testament to the arduous journey he had undertaken to return to Calztela.

Cárcel's hand found hers, resting against his stomach, and squeezed it tightly. "How... What are you doing here?" he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I was planning on traveling to Mendoza soon... I only had a few matters to attend to..."

"I thought it was my turn to come and see you," she whispered back. "You are always so preoccupied with the naval affairs, and I found myself with ample time."

She felt him hold his breath and then exhale deeply beneath her touch. His hand, still clutching hers, began to tremble.

She gave a self-indulgent sigh. Was he so overwhelmed that he couldn't bear to face her nor keep his hands from shaking? Did he love her so dearly? It was an arrogant thought, especially since she had spent days at the desk, waiting for him like a lost soul. 

I had a terrible dream. I waited and waited, but you never came... It was such a long nightmare that I feared I would never wake up. Inés wanted to say this and more, but she held her tongue. Cárcel had returned to her, and that was enough. This was not a nightmare-it never had been. Everything would be all right.

Cárcel silently brought her hand to his lips, holding it there for a long moment as if it were something sacred. It almost seemed like he was hoping to leave a permanent imprint on her skin. After a while, he began to murmur a soundless prayer. Inés could feel every movement of his lips, each breath and sigh against her hand.

She waited patiently for him to finish, but as his prayer drew to an end, she decided she could wait no longer. She whipped Cárcel around-or rather stepped around him to face him, to be more exact.

But in that moment, she could not care any less. Her attention was wholly fixed on her husband's face.

Cárcel appeared bewildered, a stark contrast to how he had cradled her hand and whispered a gentle prayer against her skin.

"I don't like that face of yours," Inés blurted, unable to mask her disappointment. Her gaze traveled upward, and she noticed something that immediately brought a frown on her face.

"Inés..." Cárcel began, as if he wished to explain.

Ignoring him, Inés reached out with a frantic hand and brushed away the hair covering his forehead, revealing the bandages wrapped around his head. All color drained from her face. "Explain this," she demanded.

Hesitation flickered across Cárcel's face. "Ines..."

She could feel her fingers trembling. "How did this happen?"

"It's nothing you need to concern yourself with," Cárcel replied quickly.

Inés seemed not to hear him. "How...why...? I don't understand..."

"It was but a simple mistake."

Inés's voice rose with disbelief. "Mistake? I don't believe you. You are much too careful to be injured like this over a simple mistake!"

"Inés, it's a mere scratch, nothing more." Although Cárcel's tone was soothing, it failed to calm her.

"Who did it?" Inés demanded, her entire body beginning to tremble.

He met her eyes with a steady gaze. "I am fine, Inés."

She released an enraged shriek. "Answer me! Who did it?!"

Before she could utter another word, Cárcel swiftly pulled her against his chest, muffling her outburst.

Her fury was so intense that it seemed she might dash off to fetch a rifle as soon as she heard the culprit's name. However, she could only stomp her feet in rage, held fast in Cárcel's firm embrace-and even that became impossible when he tightened his arms around her, lifting her onto her tiptoes, pressing her tight against his chest.

"I am all right, Inés," he whispered into her ear. "I assure you... I am fine."

Inés snorted to herself. If he were truly fine, he wouldn't need to repeat it multiple times. However, it seemed that Cárcel's embrace and soothing words had the desired effect. As her ebbed away, Inés realized that her face was essentially buried in his chest. She said with a muffled voice, "Fine. Now, let go of me."

"Just a bit longer..." Cárcel murmured, somehow holding her even tighter.

Inés tried to squirm free, but to no avail. "Just release me for a moment, will you? I want to examine your wound."

"Just a moment more."

As always, it appeared that Cárcel meant the exact opposite when he said "just a bit" more. Inés expected him to start kissing her everywhere-starting from the top of her head and ending at her ears and face-but he simply held her close as if fearing she might disappear if he let go. His face nestled in her hair as he took slow, deep breaths. Inés did not dare to struggle, sensing a strange desperation in his embrace.

After a long moment of silence, Cárcel muttered, "I should have washed myself beforehand."

"Why?"

"I am filthy from my long journey. I must have gotten some of the dirt on you as well... I'm sorry," Cárcel said regretfully.

Inés shrugged and said, "We can simply take a bath together." Immediately, she felt his body stiffen in surprise. Now that most of the anxiety and fear had drained from her mind, she could assess his reaction with a level head. Something was odd about him, but she just didn't know what...

When Cárcel awkwardly loosened his embrace and set her down on the ground, she quickly reached out to grab his chin. His gaze wavered and moved to the side. It was a subtle movement, but it was enough to ensure that their eyes did not meet properly.

It made sense that Cárcel was so reluctant to show her his injury. Even on their last night in Mendoza, he had gone out of his way in that dimly lit room to distract her from noticing his bullet wound. He was a fool who would rather jump off a cliff than display his weaknesses to her.

She recalled what Isabella had said about the scars that still remained on Cárcel's body. Perhaps it is a habit that he developed at a young age, she mused. It would make sense that he tried to hide the signs of his abuse from his mother... The thought sent a painful throb through her heart, but it seemed the most plausible explanation. There was no other reason he would flinch at the opportunity to bathe with her. After all, their baths together often led to more intimate distractions.

Reflecting further, she remembered how he had also lied to her in Mendoza, offering a feeble excuse to hide the bullet wound-some nonsense about being too filthy to make love, even though the bath was mere steps away. When she tried to pry, he had immediately pounced on her like a starving animal and diverted her attention. He could attempt to conceal the truth, for she would simply break through his restraint, as always. Yet, a lingering suspicion gnawed at her. She had encountered a similar situation before, but never before had he been so awkward in his evasions.

Inés released an icy bark of laughter and asked, "Are you hiding something from me aside from that bullet wound in your side?"

"Ah... I see that Balan has been speaking out of turn." Cárcel jumped to the accusation, seizing the opportunity to deflect blame.

Inés knew she must tread carefully, as she needed him to trust Raúl. She shook her head, maintaining her calm demeanor. "Your little rat remains loyal," she reassured him, turning his chin from side to side to examine his face. "I saw the wound myself in Mendoza. I remained silent because you were acting like a pitiful fool. But, well... it seems you've shared this with Raúl and not with me."

Cárcel's gaze finally snapped to hers. There was a hint of defeat in his eyes.

Inés gave a soft snort. How insolent... Both of you."

"Forgive me," Cárcel apologized instantly. "It was not as serious as you may think. The bullet simply grazed me, nothing more."

"Indeed?" she replied, her tone sharp. "It would have been fatal otherwise. Where did this happen?"

"At the base," he answered promptly, his tone casual. "It was a mishap."

For a moment, Inés studied his seemingly nonchalant expression, mulling over the blatant lie he was feeding her. His readiness to speak of the wound indicated there was a complexity to his actions that transcended the mere need to hide his wound from her.

"I want to see the wound myself," she insisted. "I will summon Lieutenant Maso."

"It's already been treated," Cárcel interjected quickly, eager to end the discussion.

Inés regarded him with a furrowed brow, her concern mounting. "Now you have me imagining all manner of horrors. Is it so grotesque?"

Cárcel offered her a quick smile, gently rubbing her shoulders. "Let me wash myself first, Inés. We can discuss this afterward."

"Very well," Inés nodded. "Then we shall take a bath together."

She resolved to strip him bare and see exactly what he was hiding.