“My grandmother… and Aunt Marisol.”
I hugged her as she cried to my chest. He told me he wanted to go home, but something inside me turned cold.
“Not yet.”
I went in with her. Marisol was collecting disposable plates as if nothing had happened. My mom cleaned the table and my dad ate cake sitting on the couch.
“What did they do to my daughter’s hair?”
Marisol wasn’t even ashamed.
“We asked her to make a ponytail. Did not want. Then we cut it off.”
“Excuse me?”
My mom sighed.
“Don’t make drama, Lucia. It’s just hair.”
Marisol added, her voice full of poison:
“Valeria was crying. It was her birthday and your daughter arrived as if she were the queen of the party. What did you want us to do?”
I looked at Sofia. He trembled.
I did not scream. I didn’t break anything. I just took his hand and we walked out.
But as I closed the door, I heard my dad say:
“This is how the conceited is lowered.”
And there I understood that this was just beginning.
I couldn’t believe what was about to happen…
