I clasped the delicate lace of my bridal gown so tightly that my knuckles turned an ashen white. The pristine fabric, meant to symbolize purity and new beginnings, now enshrouded me like a funerary veil, suffocating the remnants of my former freedom...
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Sitting alone in the quiet spring night, I found myself going over Yasenia's words again and again. Tears pricked at my eyes as her haunting words echoed in my mind, "Those shadows will swallow you up one day."
Every word hit me like a hammer against my heart. Wasn't my own hatred of my father's ways reason enough to be better? What kind of man had I become, to knowingly expose my own child to such darkness?
The more I thought about it, the worse I felt. How couldn't I see the mess I was dragging my family into? She begged me to give it all up and it was as if I had been looking through a dirty window, never fully understanding.
Miguel came out on the porch, offered me a beer, and sat next to me. "Share, what's on your mind?" he asked, studying my brooding face.
"Am I a monster, Miguel?" I turned to him, my voice raw with pain. My strong facade was crumbling, revealing the fear and guilt festering inside me.
Miguel's response was immediate, a firm No. There was conviction in his voice that surprised even him.
"But how do you know?" My haunted eyes met his, pleading for answers, for guidance.
"Because monsters don't worry about whether they're monsters or not. They revel in it. They thrive on fear and manipulation." Miguel leaned back in his chair, contemplating me. "You, Alessandro... you feel guilt, remorse. You agonize over the choices you've made and the lives it could impact. That's not the actions of a monster."
I mulled over Miguel's words, drawing comfort from them. But it didn't change the harsh reality.
"So why did I hurt her so badly?" I confessed to myself and to him. "Was it to make her feel my pain? I pushed her away and hurt her, even though all she wanted to do was help me heal. Now, I'm not sure she'll ever forgive me, but I can't really blame her if she doesn't."
Miguel laughed lightly, sipped his beer, and said, "Knowing my sister, as long as she's still shouting and yelling at you, you still have a chance to make it right."
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"Buen día, (good morning)" I greeted, dragging a chair over to sit next to papá by the pool.
"Buen día, cariño, (good morning, sweetheart)" he returned, grinning warmly at me. Dormiste bien? (sleep well?)"
