“I climbed the Mountain of Truth,” he says. “I saw my own reflection in a lake of tears. I learned that I didn’t love you because I didn’t know how to love myself.”
“Señor?” she whispers. “You… you are not wearing your armor.” final de el caballero de la armadura oxidada regresa a casa
He leaves it there.
“Believe it,” he says.
“No,” he says. “I am not.”
And Cristóbal talks. Until his voice breaks. She finds him in the garden at dusk. The same garden where he once rode off to war without saying goodbye. She is older now. Her hands are worn from raising a child alone, from managing a castle while her husband fought ghosts and called it glory. “I climbed the Mountain of Truth,” he says
His voice doesn’t echo. It lands softly, like a stone in water. “You… you are not wearing your armor