been crossed that could never be uncrossed.
Natalia stopped crying then. The tears didn’t disappear, but her face went remarkably still. She looked at me, and in that moment, I saw the flicker of trust she had placed in my family vanish. Camila’s statement—that she wasn’t family—hit harder than the ruin of the dress ever could. It was a formal rejection, delivered in front of everyone we knew.
My mother finally stepped in, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. “Camila, that’s enough. Go inside.” But the damage was done. Camila
