Daniela had wanted a simple party at her parents’ home, with balloons, tres leches cake, and Lucía covered in frosting. But Rodrigo, her husband, had said:
—My mother is excited. Let her. It’s her first granddaughter.
As if Lucía belonged more to Teresa than to her own mother.
Teresa raised her glass again, savoring the silence.
—I’m not accusing anyone—she said with a fake smile—. I’m just saying that in the Aranda family, we’ve had brown eyes for five generations. My husband, my sons, my parents, my grandparents… all of them. And suddenly, this girl is born with those eyes.
Some guests lowered their gaze. Others turned to Daniela with the cruel curiosity of people waiting to see a woman break.
Rodrigo said nothing.
That was what hurt the most.
Not the humiliation. Not Teresa’s venomous voice. Not Paulina Mier—the perfect, wealthy woman Teresa had always wanted as a daughter-in-law.
It was Rodrigo’s silence.
