Chapter 1 - “Don’t make a scene, Lucía. Hair grows back. You can’t redo a wedding.”
“Don’t make a scene, Lucía. Hair grows back. You can’t redo a wedding.”
That was what Adrián, my fiancé, told me when I removed my mother’s hat and saw what had been done to her hair just two hours before our wedding.
Beneath the hat, Mom’s hair was a disaster.
For over thirty years, Elena had worn a braid that reached her waist. It wasn’t just vanity. The women in our family cherished it as a symbol of affection, memory, and respect. My grandmother had taught her how to style it when she was a little girl, and Mom always said that as long as she could braid her hair with her own hands, she would remember where she came from.
That morning, Adrián had offered to drive her to the salon owned by Camila, a childhood friend of his.
When they returned to the event venue in Zapopan, Mom wouldn't look up.
“It was an accident,” Camila explained, shrugging. “I’m practicing new cuts, and Adrián told me I could try something different.”
I took off Mom’s hat.
I felt my throat tighten.
There were clumps five centimeters long, others twenty centimeters long, and patches cut almost down to the root. It looked as though someone had been having fun with a pair of scissors without stopping to consider that they were working on a real person.
Mom’s eyes were filled with tears.
“It’s all right, dear. Go get yourself ready. Today is your day.”
Adrián sighed in annoyance.
“See? Your mom doesn’t even want to make a fuss.”
I looked at him. “Camila is twenty-five years old. At exactly what age does she stop being ‘a girl who is still learning’?”
Camila looked offended.
Adrián immediately stepped in to comfort her.
Something inside me snapped.
I saw a pair of scissors on the table, grabbed them, walked over to Camila, and—before she could move away—cut off the long ponytail she had styled for her role as a bridesmaid.
Camila screamed.
“You’re crazy!”
“Now we’re even,” I replied. “Hair grows back, doesn’t it?”
Adrián grabbed my arm.
“What the hell is wrong with you?! Camila has to go out in front of everyone looking like that!”
I stared right at him.
“Funny. Five minutes ago, you didn’t care that my mother had to go out in front of everyone.”
Just then, Adrián’s parents and Bruno—Camila’s older brother—walked in.
Bruno saw his sister crying and lost his temper. He grabbed me roughly by the shoulder. Mom tried to pull him off, but he shoved her.
Her back slammed against the wall.
My blood boiled.
I screamed for security while pushing Bruno away from her.
But that wasn’t the worst part.
The worst part was seeing Adrián step in front of Camila.
Not in front of me.
Not in front of my mother.
In front of Camila.
His father demanded that I apologize.
“I’m not going to apologize.”
“Just do it and let’s get this over with,” Adrián ordered through gritted teeth.
“I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Then he grabbed me by the shoulders and tried to force me to bow my head before Camila.
Mom was crying.
Camila was smiling.
And when I tried to pull away, she discreetly nudged a bucket of dirty water that the cleaning staff had left behind.
The water spilled all over my dress. At the dress Mom had spent three months making by hand.
I looked at the soaked fabric.
Then I looked at Adrián.
He simply said:
""""We’ll buy another one.""""
That’s when I understood everything.
It wasn't about the dress.
It wasn't about the hair.
It was about the place my mother and I held in his life.
I took off the ring.
I left it on the table.
""""The wedding is off, Adrián.""""
I took Mom by the hand and walked out while everyone shouted that I was overreacting.
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No one there knew yet that I was ten weeks pregnant.
And they certainly couldn't have imagined what I would discover that very night.
