Chapter 3: The Past That Can't Be Forgotten

The restaurant where Valeria and Mónica were having lunch was as lively as ever, with tables full of diners enjoying animated conversations and perfectly plated dishes. However, for Valeria, the atmosphere felt distant, almost irrelevant. While she absentmindedly played with her glass of white wine, Mónica's face across from her remained expectant.

“You seem off today,” Mónica said, breaking the silence.

Valeria looked up, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Oh, really? Maybe it’s work, or I’m just tired.”

Mónica wasn’t convinced.

“Don’t give me excuses. You and I both know when something’s on your mind.”

Valeria sighed deeply, resting her chin on her hand as she stared out the window. Outside, life carried on as usual—cars passing by, people walking, couples laughing. A pang of melancholy pierced her chest.

“Sometimes, no matter how far you move forward, certain things from the past just don’t go away, you know?” she finally confessed, her voice trembling slightly.

“You’re talking about Roberto, aren’t you?” Mónica asked, as direct as ever.

The name fell like a hammer. Roberto. A name Valeria had tried her hardest to bury deep in her memory. And yet, there it was, floating in the air, bringing with it a torrent of memories.

Suddenly, Valeria was transported to the past—ten years ago to the day—a day she had sworn never to relive.

The church was decorated with white flowers and golden accents, her wedding a dream she had meticulously planned for months. Every corner spoke of perfection, of the promise of a future filled with love and happiness. Valeria remembered the warmth of the wedding dress against her skin, a custom creation that made her feel like a true fairytale princess.

The guests filled the pews, whispering excitedly as they awaited the union of the bride and groom at the altar. Valeria, hidden in the vestibule, watched through a small crack, feeling adrenaline and excitement fill her chest.

“You’re ready, darling,” her mother had said, adjusting her veil delicately. “Today is the most important day of your life.”

Valeria nodded, her eyes shining with emotion. She loved Roberto with all her heart and soul. He had been her support during the tough years at university, her companion in every step toward her career, and the man who had promised her eternal love. That day was going to be perfect.

Or so she thought.

Minutes before the bells rang and the wedding march announced her entrance, one of the bridesmaids handed her an envelope.

“This just arrived for you, Valeria,” she said, her face troubled.

Valeria took the envelope, feeling an inexplicable weight in her stomach. The handwriting on the front was unmistakable—it was Carolina’s, her best friend and maid of honor.

With trembling hands, she opened the envelope and pulled out a letter. The words written in black ink began to dance before her eyes as she read them:

**“Valeria,

I know this is the last thing you expected today, but I can’t let you go through with this wedding.

Roberto doesn’t love you the way you love him. It’s hard to tell you this, but he and I have been together for five months, and I can’t keep up this lie anymore. He wants to be with me, not you—we’re in love. Forgive me, but I couldn’t let him marry you. I also need you to know something: I’m pregnant. Please, don’t hate me.

—Carolina”**

The paper shook in her hands before falling to the floor. The entire world seemed to stop. Valeria felt as if her heart had been ripped from her chest, leaving an icy void in its place.

“What’s wrong, Valeria?” her mother asked, alarmed by the change in her daughter’s expression.

Valeria didn’t answer. She tore off her veil with clumsy hands, letting it fall to the floor alongside her bouquet. The dress she had dreamed of for months now felt like an unbearable burden. Without thinking, she started to run.

She rushed through the vestibule, exiting through the church’s back door as tears streamed down her face, blurring her vision. The fresh air hit her face, but it wasn’t enough to calm the whirlwind of emotions she felt—pain, anger, humiliation, betrayal.

Inside the church, the murmurs began, and some guests stood as they saw Valeria running out. No one understood what was happening. No one, except her.

---

“Valeria,” Mónica’s voice brought her back to the present, “are you okay?”

Valeria blinked, realizing she had been lost in thought for several minutes. Her friend looked at her with concern.

“Sorry, I was thinking… about that damned day,” she responded, her voice breaking slightly.

Mónica took her hand, squeezing it tightly.

“You don’t have to carry that pain forever. What they did to you was horrible, but it doesn’t define who you are now.”

Valeria nodded slowly, grateful for her friend’s support, but she knew it wasn’t that simple. The betrayal by Roberto and Carolina had left a deep wound, a scar that continued to shape her decisions even after all these years.

That evening, when she got back to her apartment, Valeria allowed herself a moment of vulnerability. She kicked off her heels, poured herself a glass of wine, and sat on the sofa, staring out at the city through the window.

“Why am I still thinking about this?” she asked aloud.

She knew she had built an incredible life after that day. She had turned her pain into determination, using the experience as a driving force to become the strong, independent woman she was today. And yet, there was something she still couldn’t fully let go of.

It wasn’t just the betrayal by the two people she trusted most. It was the fear—the idea that opening her heart again could lead to another emotional disaster.

Valeria picked up her notebook, a habit she had adopted to organize her thoughts, and began to write.

“That day broke me. But it also freed me. It showed me that the only person I can truly rely on is myself. Still, I can’t let the past define my future. If I keep carrying this fear, I’ll never truly move forward.”

As she closed the notebook, Valeria felt a small spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe, the first step to healing was accepting that the past couldn’t be changed but didn’t have to dictate the rest of her life.

With that thought in mind, she set the wine glass aside and lay back on the sofa. Despite everything, she knew she was ready to move forward—at her own pace and on her own terms.

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