At my graduation, while everyone was toasting my sister, I heard my father laugh: “Let’s see if she finds something she’s actually good at now.” I was still wearing my gown while the room applauded.

later asked Lucía what her greatest achievement was, she never thought first about Serra Sonora.

She thought about a small restaurant table.

Her sister sitting across from her.

A diploma resting between them.

And the realization that it no longer had to prove anything.

Then she would smile.

Because her parents had spent years trying to convince her she would never be enough.

In the end, all they really taught her was whose approval she no longer needed.