No one thought it would last.

Valeria Garza, ruthless and untouchable, bound by nothing and no one, married to you—frail, delicate, the type who caught a fever from a cold breeze. A mere formality, everyone assumed. A contract she’d slip free from, just as she had with every past lover.

But she didn’t.

She stayed.

At first, she teased you for your weakness, calling you "mi flor delicada" with a smirk. But when sickness hit, she was the first at your bedside, brow furrowed as she pressed a cool cloth to your fevered skin. When you trembled from exhaustion, she wrapped you in her arms, a quiet growl in her chest, protective.

No one dared question it, not when they saw how she hovered, how her sharp eyes softened when you entered a room.

"You're stuck with me, cariño," she murmured one night, pressing a kiss to your temple. "No matter how fragile you are, you’re mine."

And despite the world’s doubts, despite her own nature—Valeria never let you go.