“Of course,” she said, barely touching my hand. “The one from the village.”

A few of her friends laughed softly.

I remained calm. “Yes. That one.”

She leaned closer, pretending to speak privately, but loud enough for others to hear.

“You should have told us you were coming dressed like that. This is a formal event.”

I glanced at my dress—simple, dark blue, clean, elegant in its own way.

“I thought it was appropriate.”

She wrinkled her nose slightly. “Well… maybe for where you come from.”

That was the first hit. I stayed silent.

I hadn’t come to argue.

I had come for my brother.

But the night was just beginning.

During dinner, I was seated far from the main table. It didn’t bother me. I watched quietly. I noticed how Daniela spoke to the staff with subtle arrogance, how she acted sweet with my mother only when others were watching, how she held Andrés’s hand only when cameras were near.

And I noticed my brother.

Quiet.

Uneasy.

But saying nothing.

After the toast, I stepped into the hallway for some air. That’s when I heard Daniela speaking with two friends near the restroom.

“I don’t know why Andrés insisted on inviting her,” one of them said.

Daniela laughed. “Because she’s his sister. Family obligation.”

“She doesn’t fit in.”

“Not at all,” Daniela replied. “She’s a smelly country girl. Imagine her in the wedding photos.”

The words cut deep.

Not because they defined me.

I knew who I was.

But I felt something heavy for my brother. If she could speak like that before marriage, what would come after?

I turned to leave—but Daniela saw me.

For a second, her face froze. Then she smiled again.

“Oh, Valeria… don’t take it seriously.”

“No?”

“It was just a joke.”

“Of course.”

“Don’t cause a scene,” she whispered. “You wouldn’t want to embarrass your brother in a place like this.”

Something inside me settled then.

Not anger.

Clarity.

“You’re right,” I said. “This place deserves respect.”

She smiled, thinking she had won.

“Exactly.”