mixture of protective fury and profound shame. My sister looked at me as if I were speaking a foreign language. The smirk didn’t leave her face; if anything, it deepened into a sneer of genuine contempt for the woman I had chosen.
“To her? For what?” Camila asked, her voice rising in pitch. “She’s not even part of this family yet. You’re all acting like someone died over a piece of fabric.” The silence that followed was suffocating. The air felt heavy, charged with the realization that a line had
