CHAMPAGNE OVER ASHES

The days were tinged with bitter gray. Valentina got up out of sheer habit, dragging her feet toward Luz’s room. There she shut herself away with Cristina, the only person whose presence did not make her nauseous. She clung to her daughter’s dresses and toys, waiting for a miracle that reason denied her, but her wounded heart still silently demanded.

From the outside, the scene looked like a family tragedy. Her parents, her in-laws, and Sandra took turns entering with trays of food and empty words. In Leonidas’s eyes, they were simply trying to rescue her from the darkness.

Valentina watched them without blinking. She knew their supposed compassion was a disguise.

That night, the mansion pulsed with a joy Valentina found obscene.

Champagne flowed, and Héctor’s laughter rang out, leading this theater of perfection. Meanwhile, Georgina, her mother, watched every corner with a hawk’s precision. Valentina watched them from the shadows of the main staircase. Her black dress was a silent scream, a patch of mourning amid so much gilded hypocrisy.

“I’m glad you came out of your seclusion, darling. You’re finally yourself again,” Héctor said, smiling as he offered her a glass.

Valentina accepted the glass. Sandra and her parents smiled with feigned relief, believing time had erased the traces of their filthy secret. The lights in the ballroom shone too brightly, and the music sounded festive, almost offensive. Everything seemed normal. Far too normal.

“Of course. I could not miss your party. Who cares that our daughter’s body was buried only recently?” she replied ironically, taking a slow sip from her glass and letting the crystal chime softly between her fingers.

A nearby couple stopped laughing. Someone cleared their throat. The remark fell like a stone into still water.

“You’d better behave yourself!” he declared, gripping her arm hard enough to dig his fingers into her skin.

Valentina merely smiled. A soft, unsettling smile. Her eyes, however, did not smile.

Then she walked over to where Leónidas was standing.

“You look beautiful!” he told her gently. “I hope you do not mind this... I know your heart is still fragile. But let us try to let our hearts laugh a little tonight. I am sure that if Luz were here, she’d be enjoying all of this.”

Her daughter’s name floated between them like a sacred whisper. Like an open wound.

Although Valentina knew Leonidas’s affection was genuine, she felt a small pang at that moment. She wondered how he could have agreed to take part in this circus. Could he really not see the invisible blood staining those walls? Or did he prefer not to see it?

She surveyed the ballroom. Forced laughter. Raised glasses. Eyes that avoided hers. Others watched her curiously, as if waiting for a breakdown, a scandal, a scene.

No. She wouldn’t give them that.

“Come on, let’s go,” Leónidas told her quietly. “It’s time for you to give your speech.”

“All right,” she replied, forcing a calm that was pure fire beneath ice. “Today, everyone will get what they deserve.”

Valentina moved forward slowly, making her way through the guests.

The sound of her heels wasn’t a walk; it was a countdown. The guests turned to look. Some lowered their voices, while others dared to point at her. “How can she look so composed?” they said. “Isn’t it a little too soon to wear a dress with that neckline after the funeral?” Valentina didn’t listen. Her eyes were fixed on Héctor, who held a fine crystal glass and looked like the master of the world.

When she reached the center of the ballroom, the orchestra stopped. Héctor approached her with a practiced smile, trying to put an arm around her waist for the photograph. Valentina sidestepped him with polished grace and positioned herself in front of the microphone.