PART 1
“If by thirty you still have no husband and no children, then you did something wrong,” my brother said in front of everyone, raising his glass as if he had just told the most brilliant joke of the night.
I smiled out of pure habit, but inside I felt that old burning sensation that had followed me since childhood every time Ricardo decided to remind me what, according to him, my place in the family was. That night I was turning thirty, and I had sworn I would not let him ruin it for me. I had reserved a beautiful terrace by a lake in Valle de Bravo, with hanging lights between the wooden beams, white flowers on the tables, and a three-tier cake that I had ordered myself weeks earlier. I wanted a quiet night. Elegant. Mine.
For the first forty minutes, I almost got it.
My friends arrived with gifts, my cousins with loud hugs, my parents with slightly tense smiles and a bouquet of sunflowers that made me feel truly loved. I even thought that maybe, just this once, Ricardo was going to behave himself. But no. He arrived late, as always, with his wife Paola behind him and his son Mateo running between the tables like a spinning top out of control.
“Look at that, the birthday girl,” Ricardo said, patting me on the back. “Thirty years old and still spending money as if you had no responsibilities.”
He said it laughing. As always. As if every stab disguised as a joke stopped hurting simply because it came wrapped in a smile.
Mateo, who was ten years old, kept running around touching everything. A decoration here, a napkin there, a glass that a waiter almost dropped because of him. I calmly asked Ricardo to make him sit down for a while.
“Oh, relax,” he replied. “That’s why you still have certain things to live through. Kids are like that.”
It was not the first time he had used me as a target. At every family meal he made comments about my singleness, my biological clock, my apartment in the city, my job, my freedom, as if everything I had built were merely a consolation prize for not having the life he considered correct. And my parents, although they sometimes muttered a “enough, Ricardo,” never really stopped him.
That night I noticed something worse.
Every time I stepped away for a moment to greet someone, Ricardo would lean toward Mateo and whisper things in his ear. The boy would look at me, nod, and smile as if he had been given a secret mission. The third time I saw it, I went straight to their table.
“Ricardo, enough already. I just want one peaceful night.”
“Oh, Valeria, don’t exaggerate,” he answered, with that innocent face he always wore before doing something cruel. “We’re just spending time together.”
Minutes later, Mateo came up to me while I was talking to a cousin.
“Auntie, why don’t you have kids?” he suddenly asked.
I felt a blunt blow in my chest. It was not a child’s question. It was his father’s voice coming out of his mouth.
“Because not everyone wants the same life, my love,” I told him slowly. “And all decisions deserve respect.”
Mateo frowned.
“My dad says you’ll regret it later… that you act strong because you’re alone.”
I looked up. Ricardo was watching me from his chair, amused. He was not even trying to hide it. He wanted to see me burn.
I wanted to answer him. I wanted to confront him right there. But at that moment the waiters came out with the cake and everyone started singing. It was beautiful: three tiers of white frosting, red berries, edible flowers, and a golden topper that said “30 and fabulous.” My friends pulled out their phones, my cousins applauded, even my mother got emotional.
And then Mateo made his way through the guests.
At first I thought he only wanted to see the candles up close. But no.
He put both hands on the base of the cake.
“Mateo, no,” I said, moving toward him.
It was too late.
He lifted it with awkward but determined effort, walked toward the edge of the terrace, right where the infinity pool began, and when we all finally understood what was happening, the boy turned to look at his father with a proud smile.
“Dad, I already did what you asked me to do!”
And he threw the cake into the water.
There was a splash, a freezing silence, and the reflection of the candles going out on the surface of the pool.
I felt something inside me sink too.
