Her mother and Marina were face-to-face.
“What are you doing here?” she hissed. “I just wanted to bring this to you, daughter,” Citlali replied softly. Confused, Omar welcomed them in.
Marina extended her hand gracefully. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m Emily’s mother—just returned from Europe.”
Citlali hesitated but smiled.
“The pleasure’s mine.”
When Emily pushed her mother aside, Citlali whispered, “I can’t believe you’d deny me like this. I gave you everything.”
“You’re not part of my life anymore,” Emily said, turning away. During dinner, Omar spoke thoughtfully.
“I met a woman at the dry cleaners today,” he said. “She told me her daughter was ashamed of her because of her skin color. I can’t imagine that kind of pain.”
Emily froze.
Marina looked down, guilt in her eyes. Days later, Emily received a letter. “My dear daughter, I remember when you wanted us to dress alike.
Now it hurts to know you’re ashamed of me. One day, you’ll understand that no love runs deeper than a mother’s.”
On the wedding day, Citlali arrived quietly, dressed simply. “I didn’t come to cause trouble,” she said calmly.
“I came to remind you who you are.”
“You don’t belong in the life I’m building,” Emily answered coldly. “Maybe not,” her mother said. “But I’m your mother.
And if you reject me, I must let you go too.”
She pressed a letter into Emily’s hand and left. During the ceremony, the priest smiled. “Emily, do you take Omar as your husband?”
“Yes, I do,” she said, voice trembling.
“And you, Omar?”
He hesitated. “No.”
The room went silent.
“I can’t marry someone who rejects her roots,” he said sadly. “I’m sorry.”
Marina stepped forward.
“It’s true. I’m not her mother. I was hired to pretend.”
Emily collapsed to her knees, tears spilling as her world fell apart.
Weeks later, she returned to the dry cleaners. “Mom,” she muttered, “I lost everything. I was wrong.
Please forgive me.”
Citlali embraced her gently. “I’ll always love you, daughter. But now you must earn back my respect.”
Time passed.
Mother and daughter began working side by side again. Emily helped fold clothes, smiling without shame. “You look lovely in that dress,” Citlali said.
Emily smiled through her tears. “Now I understand that nothing is worth more than love and dignity. A daughter without her mother is like a tree without roots.
And I don’t want to wither again.”
