Paladar Latin Kitchen Rum Bar

, she knew. She knew it because she had. " The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the dusty field, giving everything a warm, amber glow. The air was still and sweet, heavy with the scent of drying grass and distant wildflowers. Martha sat on a weathered wooden bench outside the small, white church, her hands folded in her lap. She watched the children playing, their laughter echoing softly in the stillness. Her heart ached with a familiar longing. It had been five years since Thomas left. Five years since he'd ridden away on his motorcycle, a promise to return whispering on the wind. But the wind had been unkind, carrying away his words, leaving her with an empty space in her life. She knew she should move on. He was gone, probably never coming back. But a small, stubborn part of her still held on, refusing to let go of hope. The church bell tolled, breaking the silence. Martha rose, a faint smile touching her lips. The service was about to begin. She walked inside, the familiar scent of incense and wood filling her lungs. As she found her place in the pews, her eyes fell on the worn, wooden cross hanging above the altar. It had been Thomas's. He'd carved it himself, years ago, before they were married. A single tear escaped and rolled down her cheek. It wasn't anger or sadness. It was simply a quiet ache, a deep, abiding love that whispered his name, even in the vast silence of the church.