My mother stared at me through her tears.
“Of course we wanted you to be happy.”
“Then why did I feel like I had to hide every part of myself that might disappoint you?”
My father looked away.
I continued before I lost my courage.
“Every time you called me a perfect daughter, I felt more trapped. Every time Mama told someone I was a virgin, I wanted to tell her to stop. But I couldn’t. Because I knew what would happen if I did.”
My mother’s lips trembled.
“You could have talked to me.”
“Could I?”
My voice cracked.
“If I had told you everything last year, would you have listened? Or would you have cried, called me ungrateful, and worried about what the neighbors would say?”
She didn’t answer.
I wiped my tears.
“I made choices. Some of them were mistakes. I know that. But I am still your daughter. I am still the same person who helped you when you were sick, who sat beside you when you couldn’t sleep, who worried about you when you were upset.”
