I will never forget the exact day my life was torn in two. My name is Laura Martínez, and until that moment, I believed I had an imperfect but close-knit family, and a sincere love with Daniel Ríos, my boyfriend of four years. That afternoon, sitting in my mother’s kitchen, the air grew heavy. I was three months pregnant and hadn’t yet announced it publicly. I had planned to do so that day. I didn’t get the chance.

My mother glanced at me for just a few seconds and then fixed her gaze on Daniel. With a calmness that still chills me to the bone, she said

“Marry her sister. She’s stronger and better for you.”

I felt like the world stopped. Ana, my older sister, stood there, silent, with an expression I couldn’t decipher. I waited for Daniel to react, to stand up, to shout, to defend me. But he only lowered his gaze. That gesture was crueler than any words. In that instant, I understood that he had already made a decision… and that it didn’t include me.

“I’m pregnant,” I managed to say, my voice breaking.

Daniel looked up for a second, but didn’t answer. My mother sighed, as if I were an inconvenient problem. Ana remained silent. No one met my gaze. I got up from the table, my legs trembling, and left without saying goodbye. That night I packed a suitcase, left a brief note, and left the city.

The following months were the hardest of my life. I raised my son, Lucas, alone, working whatever jobs I could find, learning to survive with a broken heart but with a newfound determination. I promised myself that no one would ever make decisions for me again. I studied, worked tirelessly, and built something of my own, step by step, without asking for favors.