PART 1
—If your baby is born today, you’re going to ruin my daughter’s wedding.
That was the last thing my mother-in-law said to me before taking my phone and locking me in the venue’s bathroom.
My name is Marisol, I’m 29 years old, and two weeks ago my first daughter, Camila, was born. I should be living the happiest days of my life, surrounded by diapers, sleepless nights, and that strange emotion of looking at a baby and thinking, “My God, she came out of me.” But every time I close my eyes, I go back to that cold bathroom, to the soaked dress, to the pain splitting me in two, and to Doña Elena’s voice saying that I couldn’t steal the spotlight from her daughter.
My husband, Diego, is 30 years old. He is a good man, hardworking, the kind who still believes family should be cared for even when it hurts. His mother raised him and his two sisters, Valeria and Sofía, after his father left. That’s why Diego always had infinite patience with her.
Doña Elena was bossy, dramatic, controlling. If someone didn’t do what she wanted, she cried, screamed, or played the victim. I tried to keep my distance, because ever since Diego and I got married, she never fully accepted me.
Valeria, on the other hand, was a different story. Sweet, direct, cheerful. She was going to get married in a beautiful venue in Zapopan with her fiancé, Andrés. When she asked me to be a bridesmaid, I happily accepted. But months later, I found out I was pregnant and had to tell her I wouldn’t be able to handle all the responsibilities.
Valeria didn’t get angry. On the contrary, she hugged me and said:
—Take care of yourself. My wedding is not more important than my niece.
Doña Elena, however, changed toward me from that day on. She looked at me as if my pregnancy were a personal insult. Even so, I went to the wedding because Valeria asked me to. I was already huge, with swollen feet, sweating, and feeling unwell, but I wanted to be there for her.
Shortly before the ceremony, I felt a sharp pain. I went up to the bathroom to breathe. Then my water broke.
I panicked. I leaned on the sink and saw Doña Elena appear in the doorway. I handed her my phone with trembling hands.
—Call Diego. The baby is coming.
She looked at the wet floor, then at my belly, and pressed her lips together.
—No. The ceremony starts in ten minutes.
I thought she hadn’t understood. I begged her. I told her I needed a hospital. That it wasn’t a tantrum.
Then she came closer, took my phone from me, and gently pushed me farther inside.
—Hold it in for an hour. Today is Valeria’s day.
She locked the door.
I banged, screamed, cried. The wedding music covered my voice. No one came upstairs. No one heard me.
I was left alone, in labor, locked away as if my life and my daughter’s life were an inconvenience.
And when I felt my legs stop responding, I understood that maybe we wouldn’t get out of there alive.
I couldn’t believe what was about to happen…
PART 2
I woke up in a hospital bed with my throat dry and my body destroyed. The first thing I saw was Diego sitting beside me, crying like I had never seen him cry before.
My heart stopped.
I thought Camila hadn’t survived.
I tried to speak, but barely a sound came out. Diego took my hand and began kissing my fingers.
—They’re fine —he told me through sobs—. Both of you are fine.
At that moment, a nurse came in with a baby wrapped in a little pink blanket. When she placed her on my chest, the whole world went silent. Camila was so small, so warm, so perfect, that for a few seconds I forgot the fear.
But then everything came back.
The bathroom. The locked door. My phone in Doña Elena’s hands.
Diego told me he found me because Sofía noticed I hadn’t come back. She thought it was strange because I had told her earlier that I wasn’t feeling well. Diego ran upstairs, heard a weak thud, and had to call one of the venue employees to open the door.
They found me unconscious, lying on the floor, with strong contractions and blood on my dress.
Doña Elena confessed everything right there, but not out of remorse. She did it because Diego confronted her in front of everyone.
Valeria arrived at the hospital still wearing her wedding dress. Andrés came with his suit wrinkled, and Sofía with her makeup running. I expected anger, complaints, anything.
But Valeria came in crying and carefully hugged me.
—Forgive me —she said—. Forgive me for not seeing how far my mother could go.
I started apologizing for ruining her wedding, but she covered my mouth with her hand.
—You didn’t ruin anything. My niece was born on my wedding day. That was the most beautiful gift.
I broke down.
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