—You’re being dramatic. It’s just that… you are attracting attention. Until Diego looked at you.
There was. No love. No support. Just insecurity.
I stood up.
—Camila, I didn’t steal the spotlight from you. I improved my health. If your fiancé looks at me and makes you insecure, that’s a problem in your relationship.
His face turned red.
—You’re a narcissist now.
Before he could respond, she stormed out.
That same afternoon, my parents called me to my mother’s room. I walked in and immediately saw the same look I had seen six months ago: the one that said it existed for his convenience.
My mom sat on the edge of the bed with a forced smile.
—Valeria, honey… you look great.
My father nodded stiffly.
—Yeah. Brilliant.
I waited. His compliments always came with a trap.
My mom continued:
—But we have to talk about your dress for tomorrow.
I blinked.
—What’s up with that?
He hesitated for a moment and then said:
—It’s a bit… excessive. We think you should wear something looser. That attracts less attention.
I looked at her stunned.
—Really? You made me lose weight, and now you want me to hide it?
My dad cleared his throat.
—Your sister is stressed. We just want to keep the peace.
So the solution is to make myself smaller. Again.
My mom leaned forward in a low voice.
—We don’t want you to overshadow your sister on her big day.
I laughed bitterly.
—Outshine her? Do you mean living safely?
My mother’s expression hardened.
—Don’t start. You’ve changed.
—Yeah —I said with a trembling voice—. I have done it. And you don’t like it because you can’t control me anymore.
My dad got up, upset.
—This attitude is the reason why you have always had problems.
That comment had a huge impact on me. Not because it was true, but because it revealed what they thought of me.
I looked at them both and said:
—They didn’t want her to be healthy. They wanted it to be okay.
Silence filled the room.
I left before they could say another word.
That night, I sat alone in the hotel bed, looking at the phone. Diego he had written to me:
—I’m proud of you. Don’t cower in front of anyone.
I cried, not because I was weak, but because for the first time someone believed I deserved to take up space.
The next day was the wedding.
And I decided I didn’t want to be his scapegoat anymore.
I wore the dress. I wore heels. I carried confidence.
And when I entered the church, I saw all the heads turn.
Including my parents.
Including Camila.
And when Camila arrived at the altar, she looked at me with a forced smile that screamed in panic.
But she wasn’t the only one panicking.
Because at that very moment, my mother got up, came over and hissed:
—If you don’t change your clothes right now, don’t bother coming to the reception.
And finally I said the words I had kept in my chest for years:
—Then maybe I won’t.
