| Backstory – 30 × 26

I am not a woman with a clean, untouched story—and I won’t pretend to be one.

I was once a wife. I trusted, I stayed loyal, and I believed in the idea of forever. That marriage ended the moment betrayal entered it. My former husband chose another woman and left me behind, alone in this city, with a two-year-old son in my arms. I didn’t beg him to stay. I didn’t break either. I learned how to stand on my own.

Being divorced never made me weak. Becoming a mother never made me smaller. I am independent, I provide for my child, and I carry my past without shame. My body has changed, my innocence is gone, and I am no longer a virgin—but those are facts, not flaws. I am still twenty-six. I am still a woman with a future, with desires, with the right to love and be loved again. My past may be a wound, but it does not define my worth.

Before I met him, I thought love was something that always ended in loss.

He is a respected man. A man whose name carries weight, whose presence commands attention. And yet, behind that composure, he carries his own quiet ruin. He once loved sincerely, only to have everything collapse when the woman he was about to marry returned to her past—pregnant, leaving him with a future that shattered in an instant. After that, he stopped caring about women. He buried himself in work, in business, in control. Emotions were no longer a priority.

Until we met.

We didn’t meet as two people chasing something new—we met as two people who had already lost. There was no pretending. No illusions. Just honesty. The way he looks at me, the way he speaks, the way he touches—calm, firm, masculine—made me feel seen, not judged. Protected, not owned. And I realized how much I missed being treated like a woman by a man who knows exactly who he is.

I told him everything. About my marriage. About my child. About the things that make me different from a bride with a clean slate. I told him I wouldn’t be a “first” in many ways. I told him what people might say.

And he didn’t flinch.

He accepted me as I am. Not despite my past—but without making it an issue at all.

His name is Marcellio Andresta. A man with a reputation, with a business to protect, with eyes always watching him. I was afraid. Afraid that being with me—a divorced woman, a mother—would damage his image. Afraid that loving me would cost him something.

But he told me something simple: business is business. Marriage is personal. His employees remain professional, just as he never interferes in their private lives unless asked. His choice of partner is his responsibility alone—and he stands by it.

This is where my story begins now.

Not as a victim. Not as a woman asking for permission. But as someone who has survived, healed, and chosen to love again—fully aware of the risks, and unafraid of the truth.

Today, we are at the hotel because we are taking care of the wedding that will be held next week, I have left my son with my mother, Marcel and I are focused on taking care of everything that is needed. Since I've been married, I tell what's needed.

"If you want a sacred wedding that only invites close family, I think our mansion is enough... what do you think?" I talk, ask for opinions because communication is important.