PART 2
The dry cleaner called the next morning at eleven.
I picked up in the kitchen, Natalia sitting across from me, untouched coffee cooling beside her—the one my grandmother had poured for her. She was still in yesterday’s blouse, hair tied back, eyes swollen from crying.
“Mr. Santiago,” the manager said, “we did everything we could, but the damage is severe. The chlorine affected the fabric, the appliqués, and part of the embroidery. We can clean it, but it won’t return to its original state.”
I didn’t need to repeat it.
Natalia already saw it in my expression.
She stood slowly and walked into the room.
I stayed on the line, listening to technical explanations that no longer mattered. When I finally hung up, my mother was at the kitchen doorway.
—Couldn’t it be fixed?
I shook my head.
She exhaled.
—What a shame, son. We’ll rent another one. There are good shops downtown.
I looked at her.
—Do you really think that’s the issue?
—Santiago, we can’t turn this into a family war either.
—A war? Mom, Camila destroyed my wife’s dress and still hasn’t apologized.
My father walked in holding his coffee.
—Your sister has had a difficult year.
That made me laugh, but it was a hollow laugh.
—And that gives her the right to humiliate my wife?
“He didn’t humiliate her,” he said. “It was a bad joke.”
“Dad told her to jump into the pool. Then he said Natalia was nothing here.”
My mother lowered her gaze, though she didn’t agree.
—Camila is impulsive. She’ll talk when she calms down.
—No. She’s going to talk now.
I went to Camila’s room and knocked. No answer. I opened the door.
She was lying on her bed, staring at her phone as if nothing had happened.
—I need you to come with me.
—For what?
—To apologize to Natalia.
She groaned in frustration.
—Not again.
—Camila, you ruined her dress.
—So I get it now, Santiago. I’m the villain. Happy?
—Stop playing the victim.
She threw her phone onto the bed.
“That’s all you’ve done since she arrived! Everything is Natalia this, Natalia that. Natalia gets nervous, Natalia can’t take jokes, Natalia needs protection. What about me? Am I not your sister?”
I stayed silent.
And then I saw something I hadn’t seen before: jealousy.
Not romantic jealousy, but the childish anger of someone who feels replaced.
“You were always my favorite brother,” she said, eyes wet. “You paid for my private school, defended me, brought me gifts when you came back from work. And now you show up with her and we’re supposed to treat her like royalty.”
—It’s not about royalty. It’s about respect.
—She yelled at me.
—After you threw her dress into the pool.
Camila clenched her jaw.
—I’m not apologizing.
—Then you’ll pay for it.
Serious.
—I don’t have money.
—I know.
I left.
That afternoon I called Diego, a friend who designs wedding dresses in Mexico City. I sent him photos of the original dress and what was left of it. He said it was almost impossible to recreate it in five days, but he could attempt a version if we secured fabric and worked nonstop.
I sent the advance immediately.
Natalia didn’t want hope.
—Don’t spend more, she said. —I’ve already caused enough problems.
It hurt to hear that.
—You didn’t cause anything.
—Your family hates me.
—Not all of them.
—But your parents are protecting her.
I had no answer.
Because it was true.
That night, while Natalia was in the bath, I went down to the patio. Camila had left her laundry basket outside—jeans, blouses, dresses, school uniforms, all neatly folded.
I stared at it.
I heard her voice again:
“It was just water.”
“If she cares so much, she should go get it herself.”
I didn’t overthink it.
I took the basket and emptied everything into the pool.
One by one, her clothes sank into the water.
Then I went upstairs.
Ten minutes later, the house shook with Camila’s scream.
—Mom! My things!
Natalia came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, startled.
—What happened?
—Now she knows what it feels like—I said.
She looked at me wide-eyed.
—Santiago…
—I don’t regret it.
She went to the window. Below, Camila was screaming and pointing at the pool while my mother tried to calm her and my father stared up at our window in fury.
Then footsteps thundered up the stairs.
Camila pounded on our door.
—Open up, you coward!
I opened it.
She tried to shove past me, saw Natalia behind me.
—Witch! You made him do this!
She lunged, but I grabbed her arm before she reached her.
—Don’t you look at Natalia like that.
She pulled free.
—You’re insane! Those were my clothes!
—It was just water.
She froze.
The same phrase, once mockery. Now a mirror.
My father appeared behind her.
—Santiago, the study. Now.
They were waiting for me like I was a misbehaving child.
—You went too far —my mother said—. Camila is a child.
—She’s nineteen.
—She’s your sister.
—Natalia is my wife.
My father slammed his hand on the desk.
—You can’t destroy a family over a woman.
That’s when I knew there was no going back.
—I’m not destroying it. You are, by excusing her.
My mother was crying.
—You’re going to apologize.
—No.
—And you’ll keep paying her school fees—my father added. “Don’t mix things.”
I exhaled.
I had been paying for Camila’s private school for two years after she repeated a grade, because my parents said she needed a “better environment.” I did it out of love, believing I was giving her a chance.
But that night I saw it differently.
I wasn’t helping her.
I was funding entitlement.
—From today, I’m stopping her tuition payments.
They went silent.
My mother pressed a hand to her chest.
—You can’t be serious.
—Completely serious.
—For a dress? my father muttered.
—No. For disrespect. For cruelty. For teaching her there are no consequences.
My mother looked at me like I was a stranger.
—You’re choosing her over your family?
—She is my family too.
Silence.
And just as I turned to leave, my father said the sentence that broke everything:
—If you insist on humiliating us like this, don’t expect us at the wedding.
I stopped at the door.
I didn’t look back.
—Then don’t come.
And for the first time in my life, I knew I was going to get married without my parents—not because they couldn’t attend, but because they chose the person who caused the harm.
