For several weeks, I slept where I could. Finally, an old lady named Rosa allowed me to rent a tiny room behind her house, near Guadalajara. She asked me almost nothing and sometimes left food outside my door without saying a word.
I worked until exhaustion.
When work started, Rosa took me to a small private clinic. There was no member of my family waiting outside. No one held my hand except Rosa.
Childbirth was difficult.
I remember hearing a baby cry.
Then I heard a nurse screaming that there was another child.
Twins.
I didn’t know because I had hardly received any medical follow-up during my pregnancy.
We put the first baby in my arms. She had black hair and the smallest fingers I’ve ever seen. I called her Valentina.
The second baby was taken away before I could see his face.
A doctor came back a few minutes later and told me she had not survived.
I cried until I was exhausted.
For years, I carried the burden of this girl’s pain that I had never been able to hug in my arms.
Valentina has become my reason for living.
I worked as a waitress by day and studied in the evening. While she was asleep, I made bracelets, bags and small accessories that I sold online. At first, I only received one or two orders a week.
Then a photo of my handmade jewelry went viral.
Orders began to flow across the country. I hired two women to help me. Then ten. A small online store has become a brand, and the brand has become an international company.
Six years later, I bought our first home.
Ten years later, I owned shops throughout Mexico.
At thirty-five, I was richer than the scared little girl we had thrown on the street could never have imagined.
But success has not healed everything.
Every birthday reminded me that there should have been two girls by my side.
And every time I looked at Valentina, I wondered what her twin might have looked like.
Twenty years after my parents rejected me, I decided to come back.
I thought I was going back to show them that I had survived without them. I wanted them to see the woman they had abandoned.
I arrived in a black Mercedes and stopped in front of the house of my childhood.
The house seemed smaller than in my memories. The gate was rusty, the walls cracked, and the weeds invaded the court where I had played before.
I approached the front door and knocked.
A young woman opened.
For a few seconds, we remained silent.
She looked like a stroke.
She had my eyes, my cheekbones, and the same little mark above her left eyebrow that Valentina has been wearing since she was born.
My heart started to beat the chamade.
“Who are you looking for? ” she asked.
Before I could answer, my parents appeared behind her.
My mother covered her mouth.
My father became livid.
I looked at them and I sketched a cold smile.
“Do you regret leaving me? »
The young woman suddenly grabbed my mother’s hand.
“Grandma,” she whispered, staring at me, “Is this my real mother? »
Time seemed to stop.
“What did she call you? “I asked.
My mother collapsed.
Her knees fell and she collapsed in a chair.
My father tried to shut her up, but she yelled at her.
“No! We’ve hidden this enough! »
Then she confessed the truth.
The second baby was not dead.
My parents followed me after learning where I lived. My mother wanted to take me home, but my father refused. When they found out that I had given birth to twins, he bribed a clinic employee to report the death of one of the babies.
