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…
