And behind me, a bitter voice sounded.
“Just look at that. The princess decided to come back.”
I turned around. There was Doña Ofelia, the mother-in-law. Short, heavy, wearing a flowered robe, with a look that could turn milk sour.
“Where have you been, you useless thing?” she spat. “You probably went crying to your crazy sister.”
I didn’t say anything.
Then Brenda, Damian’s sister, appeared, followed by her son, a spoiled brat who saw Sofia and snatched the doll from her hands.
“That thing is mine,” he said, and threw it against the wall.
Sofia burst into tears. The boy raised his foot to kick her.
He missed.
I caught his ankle in midair.
The room froze.
“If you touch her again,” I said calmly, “you’ll remember me for the rest of your life.”
Brenda lunged at me, furious.
“Let go of him, you stupid girl!”
She tried to slap me. I stopped her wrist before it reached my face and squeezed hard enough to make her whimper.
“Raise your son better,” I muttered. “You still have time to make sure he doesn’t grow up like the men in this house.”
Doña Ofelia hit me with the handle of a feather duster. Once. Twice. Three times.
I didn’t even flinch.
I yanked the handle from her hand and snapped it in two with a single pull. The crack sounded like a gunshot.
“That’s it,” I said, dropping the pieces to the floor. “From today on, there are rules here. And the first is that no one ever lays a hand on that girl again.”
That night, Sofía ate hot soup without anyone insulting her. Doña Ofelia and Brenda whispered behind closed doors. The nephew never came near again. I sat Sofía on my lap and let her fall asleep against my chest.
