And for the first time in years, that knowledge didn’t feel like something she needed to ignore.
Valeria didn’t stop until the sound of the music faded completely behind her, replaced by the uneven rhythm of her own breathing and the soft gravel beneath her shoes.
Rebeca stayed beside her, not asking questions, just matching her pace, her grip firm but gentle, as if grounding her without holding her back.
They reached the edge of the garden where the service entrance stood slightly open, the same exit Rebeca had mentioned earlier, now no longer hypothetical.
Valeria paused there, one hand resting against the cool metal handle, feeling the faint vibration of voices still echoing somewhere far behind her.
For a moment, she wondered if she should turn back, not to continue the ceremony, but to explain, to soften what had just happened.
The thought lingered only briefly, dissolving as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a quiet certainty that explanations would only feed the same pattern.
She pushed the door open.
The air outside felt different, less curated, carrying the scent of damp earth and distant traffic, something real, something unarranged.
They stepped into the narrow service corridor, the white of her dress suddenly out of place against the gray walls and stacked crates.
Rebeca exhaled slowly, a sound that seemed to release tension she had been holding for far longer than just that morning.
“You don’t have to decide everything today,” she said softly, her voice careful, as if even now she didn’t want to push too hard.
Valeria nodded, though the gesture carried more weight than agreement, more like an acknowledgment of how much had already been decided without words.
Her phone vibrated in her hand.
She looked down.
Diana.
The name alone was enough to tighten something in her chest, not sharply, but with a familiar, persistent pressure that had shaped so many of her choices.
The screen lit up again.
A message this time.
Just two words.
Come back.
Valeria stared at it, the simplicity of it almost more unsettling than anything else her mother could have said.
No apology.
No question.
Just an expectation.
Her thumb hovered over the screen, the old instinct to respond rising automatically, like muscle memory she hadn’t unlearned yet.
Rebeca didn’t say anything.
She didn’t need to.
Valeria locked the phone without replying.
They kept walking.
Outside the service gate, the street was quiet, almost indifferent to what had just happened a few meters away behind decorated walls and carefully arranged flowers.
A few cars passed, a dog barked somewhere in the distance, ordinary sounds that felt strangely grounding after the suspended tension of the ceremony.
Valeria sat down on the low concrete step near the curb, lifting the edge of her dress slightly to keep it from dragging in the dust.
Her hands rested on her lap, fingers still, as if she were waiting for something inside herself to catch up.
Rebeca sat beside her.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
The silence wasn’t heavy.
It wasn’t empty either.
It simply existed, giving space to everything that hadn’t yet found words.
After a few minutes, Valeria let out a small breath, almost a laugh, though there was no humor in it.
“I thought it would feel different,” she said quietly.
Rebeca turned slightly toward her, not interrupting, just listening.
“Lighter,” Valeria continued, her gaze fixed on the pavement in front of her.
“It does,” Rebeca said after a moment, her tone gentle but certain.
“Just not all at once.”
Valeria nodded.
She understood that.
The relief was there, but it wasn’t clean.
It came mixed with something else—something heavier, something that settled slowly rather than lifting.
Her phone vibrated again.
This time, it was Julián.
She hesitated before opening the message.
Where are you?
Simple.
Direct.
Not angry.
Not concerned.
Just… asking.
Valeria read it twice, searching for something between the lines, some hint of what he felt, what he thought about what had just happened.
There was nothing.
She typed a response.
Stopped.
Deleted it.
Typed again.
I’m outside.
She sent it before she could reconsider.
Minutes passed.
Then footsteps approached from the direction of the service gate.
Julián appeared, his suit still perfectly in place, though his expression carried a tension that hadn’t been there before.
He stopped a few steps away.
Not too close.
Not too far.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Valeria looked at him.
The question felt strange.
Not wrong.
Just… incomplete.
“I think so,” she replied.
