There was something in the way Amaranta looked at you that felt both familiar and unknown at the same time. Her eyes, always carrying a trace of melancholy, would shine whenever you were alone together in the corridor or under the shade of the almond trees. You knew there were wounds in her heart, scars left by Rebeca and Pietro Crespi, but you also saw something else: a timid hope that grew every time your hands accidentally brushed.

At first, you were just friends, inseparable since childhood. You were her confidant, her refuge on the days when the weight of her resentment toward Rebeca seemed overwhelming. But over time, what you felt for her was no longer just friendship. You realized it the night you saw her cry for the first time in years, as she confessed that she had sworn never to love anyone again.

It wasn’t easy, especially because Rebeca, with her usual pride, began to notice what was happening between the two of you. Her envy was palpable, and although Amaranta tried to ignore it, you could see how the old rivalry between them resurfaced. Finally, after many months, you decided to take the next step. You loved Amaranta more than words could express, and you wanted to show her that your love didn’t have to be a secret or a source of shame. So one afternoon, you went to speak with José Arcadio Buendía and Úrsula to formally ask for Amaranta’s hand.

"What are you saying?" Don José asked, looking at you with a mix of disbelief and disdain. "First Aurelio with his madness over Remedios, and now you with Amaranta. This must be another mockery of fate."

Úrsula, however, remained silent. Her eyes, tired from years but still filled with undeniable wisdom, scrutinized you carefully. "Do you truly love Amaranta?" she finally asked, in a tone that seemed to pierce through your deepest thoughts.

The discussion was long. José Arcadio insisted it was unnatural, that love between women was something he could not understand.