VALERIA
Upstairs
Inside my bedroom, I was stuffing clothes and other necessities into my suitcase when the door creaked open. I glanced over casually.
The shadow that entered was slender and hesitant. The moment I realized who it was—my mom, I looked away with disinterest, and continued packing.
Only then did I ask, voice flat and unwelcoming, “What is it that you want?”
I didn’t need to see her face to know my tone stung.
But whatever disappointment or irritation she felt, she pushed aside as I heard her draw a shaky breath.
“Valeria, I... I didn’t know that this was their plan from the beginning. If I had known, I would have… would have—”
“You would have what?” I cut in, turning around to face her, my voice laced with sarcasm. “Risked the wrath of the man who holds your financial lifeline now—and the one who will in the future—to warn me?”
I let out a dry laugh. “No, you wouldn’t have. And we both know that. You never had the guts. So spare me the empty sentiments. I have no use for them.”
Her face paled, then flushed with shame. I saw it, but I felt nothing.
What had she expected? Sympathy? Forgiveness?
Did she think I’d tell her it was okay? That I didn’t blame her?
The idea made me sneer inwardly.
To say those words would be to spit in the face of my own conscience.
She claimed ignorance of their plan. Maybe that was true. But would it have made a difference even if she’d known?
I doubted it.
She hadn’t known I was the intended bride all along, and yet, she was still eager to push me into Vanessa’s place the second the opportunity arose.
So, really, the only thing that would’ve changed was the timeline.
The outcome? Always the same.
If anything, she was lucky. Lucky that I didn’t hate her as much as the others.
“If that’s all,” I said coldly, turning my back to her, “I won’t see you out.”
Apparently, that struck a nerve.
“Valeria!” she snapped.
I sighed with exasperation, and turned to face her again. “Yes? Is there something else?” I asked with mock confusion, watching in satisfaction as she faltered.
My mother had always liked to assert her “authority” whenever she felt it slipping.
It made her feel powerful—probably the only power she ever had, since no one had truly taken her seriously in either her maiden family or her current one.
And because I’d always been the disobedient one, I often became the easiest target for her little displays of control.
In the past, I humored her. I played along, if only out of respect. But now?
Now she didn’t deserve even that.
She must’ve seen it in my eyes, because her confidence visibly waned. I thought she’d finally leave. But I underestimated her.
“You... didn’t mean it when you said you were cutting ties with us earlier, did you?” she asked softly.
I paused, letting her words hang. Then I looked at her, my eyes hardening into a cold sneer that made her flinch.
“Why?” I asked. “Did it sound like I was joking?”
She began to stammer. “No… I mean…” But somehow, she pulled herself together and met my gaze again.
“We’re your family, Valeria. That’s a fact you can’t change. Your father and siblings may have gone about it the wrong way—but everything they did, it was for your own good.”
She gestured at me then, her eyes narrowing in disapproval.
“I mean, just look at you. Where do you look like a proper, well-bred young lady? Wearing torn jeans and that… that shirt with a skull on it.”
“You spend all your time with those people who have no direction in life. Instead of being obedient like your sister, doing what you're supposed to do, you—”
I clenched my fists at my sides, hidden behind me. Her words shouldn’t get to me anymore—but they still did.
She kept going.
“We sent you to music classes to cultivate you, not so you could waste your time in a band with no future!”
For a moment, the room seemed to blur around me as pain twisted in my chest. But I swallowed it down and regained my calm.
“So,” I said, my voice quiet. “you agree with them after all.”
I watched her freeze.
“What you’re really saying is—since I hang around ‘messy’ friends and don’t look like someone any respectable man would want, I should be grateful that my father and siblings ‘cared’ enough to find one for me. Even if he has a few… minor flaws?”
I let the word linger.
Flaws.
In her world, a man’s worth was measured in how many zeroes were in his bank account—and how willing he was to fund her indulgences.
So what if he was older than my father? So what if he had a violent streak?
So what if he might one day kill me?
To her, those were just details. Just "flaws."
The bitterness rose again, threatening to choke me. But I didn’t let it show.
I wouldn't give her—or any of them—the satisfaction of knowing how deeply they’d wounded and broke me.
My voice was quiet, with a detached calm that didn’t match the storm inside:
“You shouldn’t have come here… Mom.”
Those three letters tasted almost foreign on my tongue.
“This might be the last time I call you that. It was wrong of me for trying to believe that you weren’t like the rest of them.”
“You are the same. Maybe even worse than any of them.”
I didn’t care how my words hurt her. I didn’t want to.
“There’s probably not much time left before my groom arrives. So I apologize for not being able to entertain you any longer.”
With that, I turned around and resumed packing, hands moving faster than before—because I couldn’t stay in this house another minute longer than necessary.
Behind me, I heard nothing.
Then, after a long pause, soft footsteps.
She was leaving.
Only when I was sure she was gone did my hands slow again.
And in the silence that followed, I realized they were shaking.