Chapter 1

• Parents are the only people who will never stop loving and protecting us unconditionally, because their instincts make them protect us even though they and we are grown up. My parents are no exception. Even though I am 27 years old, they still overprotect me as if I were a five—year—old girl. It suffocates me. They think I still need their care, but no matter how much I tell them I'm old enough to be taken care of, they don't understand. And that's not all, because their overprotection is not the only thing that bothers me, they also want me to formalize a marriage with "a good man", which I don't believe exists in this world. I prefer to live my life as I have done so far. The truth is that I don't want to form a family and be in love with a man, I never needed it and much less I will need it. The reason? Simple, I don't believe in love and the perfect marriage. I stopped believing in it years ago. I used to believe that it was enough for two people to love each other for a marriage to work, but that's not the case. No matter how much someone tells you "I love you", don't believe them, they are just simple words they will say to make us believe that they don't have eyes for anyone else, something that is false.
• I am in my office and I am on my way out, but my father comes in and, seeing that I intend to leave before the hour, he starts with his reproaches. I argue with him, it's always the same. He wants to intervene in my personal life, and that is what I hate the most. I will never allow him to do that, and that's what bothers him.
• —No," I say, exasperated, "Stop it! You can't make me do it, I've told you a thousand times, Dad.
• —Mia, understand that we are concerned about your situation. Your mother, at 27, already had you. She was always an upright woman. Please understand that...
• —I'm not my mother, Dad! —I reply, exalted by his foolishness, but I remember his state of health, so I inhale and then sigh. I try to control myself, "I'm a woman now, Dad, and I have the right to do what I want with my life.
• —Daughter, partying is not appropriate for a woman of your class. Your behavior shows that you have the mentality of a 17—year—old teenager. You leave a lot to talk about. —She runs her right hand over her tired face.
• His reproaches make me tired.
• —Why are you like this with me? —I fold my arms. I really can't believe how unfair you are to me, Dad! I help you in every way I can with the company. My work is impeccable. You know that if I keep helping you to this day it's because you can't do it alone, or have you already forgotten that I've been helping you for nine years because you're sick?
• —I know it perfectly well, daughter.
• —And yet, you don't value my efforts and what I do for you.
• Her face becomes sad and disappointed as she listens to my words.
• I know I should think about what I will say because it may affect his health, but almost every time I lose my patience when he tries to meddle in my life and even more so if he has this stupid idea of arranged marriage. I hate that he wants to engage me again. He doesn't want to respect my decisions and my rights.
• He is a very serene man with the family, but at work he always keeps a cold image all the time. His mustache outlines his face very well and his brown eyes look at me with disappointment. I can't see him like this. No matter how much misunderstanding there is between us, I can't be angry with him.
• —Listen," I approach him, "I love you, Daddy. —He smiles, "But I won't let you into my life. I'm not a child anymore. You know I'm not like Raquel, who says yes to everything.
• Rachel is the youngest of all my siblings. Before her are the twins, Edmon and Miranda. I am the oldest.
• —Mia, I worry about you. You don't know how much we're worried about you. We want to see you happy. Don't you understand that those parties you always go to won't lead to anything productive? They can only ruin your life.
• Back to the wheat again.
• It is impossible to go on with this same discussion, which always ends in the same thing.
• Tired, I sigh and move a little away from him.
• —Trust me, I know what I'm doing, I'll never do anything to ruin the family name or my life —I assure him while I take my things.
• —Where are you going? —he asks as he follows my movements to open the door.
• —I have to go, because I have a...
• —Another party, Mia? —he reproaches, annoyed.
• —Yes, Dad, another party," I mumble, exasperated.
• He shakes his head and sighs wearily, unable to cope with an argument that has no head or tail. He walks in my direction until he is in front of me, grabs my cheeks and cradles them in his hands and then kisses my forehead.
• —You know that if I tell you, it's for your well—being," he whispers without taking his eyes off me.
• —I know, don't worry," I try to reassure him, "I'll only be gone for a while. I'll be at my apartment early, I promise. —With a sincere smile, I hold his hands to calm his anguish. Trust me, Dad.