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But she wasn’t a lady out on the river. She was just like everyone else—someone who wanted answers and maybe a little bit of help.
If not for her, then for her child. She wanted her daughter to know there was magic in the world.
“We didn’t do this. We didn’t make her do this. She came this way. In fact, she’s the reason we’re like this.” “Like what?” she asked, but she knew. “Broken, Marimar. Missing pieces.”
What broke your heart so completely that its splinters found their way through generations?
Why be Rey? Something that meant king, when his mother had intended for him to be the king of the earth. Why be less when he was so much more?
Orquídea might have been born unlucky, born poor, born a bastard, but she was not born to take orders. Not anymore.
When a man dismisses other women as nothing, he would eventually do the same to her.
You could be born into a family, but you still had to choose them.
We don’t talk. None of us. Why don’t we ever talk? Silence is a language of its own in this family. A curse of our own making.
