pushed Valencia's door open with a wide smile already blooming on my face, rehearsing the teasing words I'd prepared. "You look terrified, don't be terrified." Because that was what sisters were for on wedding mornings.
The smile died the moment I stepped inside.
It was not Valencia standing at the vanity mirror, fingers twisted in her veil. It was my mother. She stood in the center of the room with her back to me, her shoulders drawn inward like she was trying to make herself smaller. The wedding flowers on the dresser filled the air with something too sweet, and almost suffocating.
"Mother?"
She turned. I had never seen my mother's face look like that. It was drained of everything warm and everything certain. Like the ground had been pulled from under her feet and she had not yet finished falling. Her lips parted but no sound came.
