“Don’t spend money on yourself this year. You’ll pay for your sister’s wedding. We’ve already decided,” the father informed him in a routine voice, as if he were saying they needed to buy bread for dinner. Nothing more, nothing less.
Alejandro froze, staring at the laptop screen. There glowed an Excel spreadsheet, his own financial Everest.
Cell G12 showed “€15,000.” The sum he’d arrived at after three years of depriving himself of everything but the bare essentials. The first payment for a studio apartment on the outskirts of Madrid.
“What do you mean, you’ve decided?” he asked, although he’d understood perfectly from the first sentence. He just needed to buy a few seconds to breathe again.
“Lucia’s getting married. To Javier. They want a summer wedding, beautiful, proper. Restaurant, photographer, dress… you know. We estimate it will take around €20,000.”
The father wasn’t asking, he stated. In his world, the issue was settled, the tic already set, the problem solved at the expense of the infallible resource: the eldest son.
“Dad, I… I don’t have that money. I’m saving, you know. For an apartment.”
Alejandro ran his hand through his hair. He felt a sticky sweat run down the back of his neck.
“The apartment can wait,” his father interrupted. “What’s the matter, aren’t you family? A sister is sacred. She only gets married once, you have to help her.”
Just once? Alejandro smiled to himself. Lucía had already had “just once” when she entered private university, and “just once” when she needed a new car. And he had paid for every one of those “just onces.” Since he was a child, he’d been told: you’re the oldest, you’re the support. And he believed it.
“And Javier? His family? Isn’t that his obligation first?”
“They’re having a tough time now,” the father responded evasively, and Alejandro heard a note of irritation in his voice. “Javier’s a good boy, but he’s no eagle. Besides, it’s not a man’s job to count money when it comes to a daughter’s happiness. We’re counting on you. Lucía has already chosen a restaurant by the Manzanares River.”
She talked about the restaurant as if Alejandro should be happy. As if it were his party too.
“We’ve already paid the deposit,” the father concluded. “€1,000. From your card. You left the details when you ordered your mother’s medicine.”
And there it was. The final blow. It wasn’t a request, it was a fact. His money had already been spent. His future, canceled.
“I’ll call you later,” Alejandro said in a muffled voice and hung up.
He slowly closed the laptop. The shiny lid revealed his own face: pale, with a hard, unfamiliar expression in his eyes.
That night his mother called. Her voice, unlike his father’s, was soft and gentle.
“Ale, don’t be mad at your father. He speaks simply. He cares about Lucía.”
“Mom, you’ve withdrawn €1,000 without permission.”
“What do you mean, ‘yours,’ son? We’re family. Can your sister’s happiness be measured in money? She’s radiant, so excited.”
“Mom, I’ve saved for three years. I’ve worked two jobs.”
“And you did the right thing; you’re a man. Lucía is a girl; she wants her fairy tale. You don’t want her to have a worse wedding than her friends’?”
His mother knew how to press the blame button. “You’re the oldest. You owe it to yourself.”
The conversation, as always, led nowhere.
The next day, Lucía herself appeared at the door of their rented one-bedroom apartment, accompanied by Javier.
She entered without asking permission, glanced around the humble room, and pursed her lips.
“Oh, Ale, do you still live in this hole?”
Javier, a robust young man, shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.
“Lucia, maybe you shouldn’t talk like that…” he murmured.
“Shouldn’t I? I’m telling the truth! Come in.”
She carefully took a printed sheet out of her bag. “Budget of expenses.” The figure on the bottom line: €22,000.
“Lucia, I can’t. That’s all. I don’t have any more money.”
“What do you mean, don’t you have any? You work. You apply for a loan. Dad said they’ll approve it.”
“Javier, what do you think?” Alejandro asked, looking at him directly. “Do you think it’s normal for another man to pay for your wedding?”
Javier blushed and lowered his gaze.
“I told Lucía we could make it simpler… save up ourselves…”
“Save up?” she said contemptuously. “Until retirement? Don’t make me laugh! Alejandro, you just don’t want to put in the effort for me. You’ve always been jealous of me.”
“Jealous? That everything was given to you with the snap of a finger?”
“Enough!” her voice rumbled. “Javier’s already uncomfortable, and on top of that, you’re complaining!”
Alejandro looked at her, seeing her pretty, offended face, and for the first time in his life, he felt nothing but a cold, growing irritation.
“I’ll think about it,” he said flatly, knowing it was a lie.
“Great!” she brightened immediately. “Oh, I almost forgot! Today we’re going to see the dress. We have to give the deposit, €300. Do you have it?”
She extended her perfectly manicured hand. And Alejandro, broken inside, took out his wallet. He saw the spark of triumph in her eyes.
The breakup came on Wednesday. After the real estate agent’s call.
“Mr. Martín, good morning. I’m calling about the studio. I regret to inform you that the owners are withdrawing it from the market.”
Alejandro froze.
“What do you mean, withdrawing it? Why? We had already agreed on everything.”
“I’m sorry too. Your father contacted them. He said your family is going through serious financial difficulties and that you won’t be able to buy. They found another buyer.”
Your father. He had called. He had decided.
He hadn’t just taken her money. He had entered her future and reduced it to ashes. Alejandro remembered a phrase his father used to repeat to him during arguments: “At your age, I was already supporting the family, and you’re still in the clouds.”
Now he understood. His father wasn’t helping Lucía. He was getting revenge on Alejandro for the levity he never had.
Alejandro hung up silently. Inside, he was empty. No anger, no sadness. Just a dazzling clarity.
He opened the bank app and blocked all his cards. Then he looked up the number for the wedding agency…
The phone rang several times before someone answered. Alejandro cleared his throat; for the first time in years, he felt in control.
“Good afternoon. This is Alejandro Martín, Lucía’s brother. I’m calling to report a change regarding the event scheduled for July.”
“Sure, Mr. Martín, please tell me,” a friendly voice answered.
“Unfortunately, we must cancel the contract. The funds are no longer available. Please consider the reservation canceled.”
He hung up without waiting for a reply. An icy calm ran through him. He was no longer the boy who always apologized. Now he was the man who made decisions.
That night, the phone rang nonstop: first his father, then his mother, and finally Lucía. Alejandro let it ring. The silence of his small apartment in Vallecas became, for the first time, a refuge.
A few hours later, there was a persistent knock on the door. It was Lucía and Javier. Her eyes flashed with fury.
— Are you crazy, Ale? Have you canceled everything? You’re making me feel so embarrassed! My friends already know about the restaurant on Gran Vía!
— Yes, I canceled it, — he replied calmly. — It’s not my job to pay for your show.
Javier seemed, for a moment, relieved, but Lucía jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow.
— You say something too!
— Lucía… — he murmured. — Maybe Alejandro is right. We could have a simpler wedding, just with immediate family.
— Traitor! — she shrieked. — You’re all against me!
Alejandro looked at her without rancor, only with the exhaustion accumulated after years of sacrifice.
— Listen to me carefully, Lucía. I saved that money for my life, not for your whims. You get married, you pay. Or there’s no wedding. I’m no longer your ATM.
Lucía started to scream, but Alejandro opened the door and pointed down the hallway. For the first time in his life, he was closing the door in his family’s face.
The next day, in the office of the IT company where he worked, he felt different.
Lighter. The weight of guilt had disappeared. He turned on his computer and began looking for other apartments in Madrid. The prices were high, but not impossible. For the first time, he thought: “It’s my money. It’s my life.”
That weekend, he received a short message from Javier: “I’m sorry. You did the right thing. Maybe one day Lucía will understand.”
Alejandro smiled bitterly. It didn’t matter anymore. In the elevator mirror, he saw his own reflection: not the scared boy who always lived for others, but a free man.
And deep down, for the first time in years, he felt a spark of true joy shine.