“Your daughter isn’t sick… it was your fiancée who shaved her head,” said the street kid… and in that instant, everything I thought I knew about my life began to crumble.
I never imagined that the worst day of my life would arrive without warning.
Not even when my daughter started to weaken.
Not even when she stopped eating.
Not even when her beautiful black hair disappeared overnight.
My name is Ernesto Salgado, and for months I believed I was watching an unknown illness slowly take my only daughter.
Valeria.
My little girl.
My reason for breathing since her mother died.
It all started so subtly that I didn’t even notice it at first.
A little tiredness.
Headaches.
Loss of appetite.
Lucía, my fiancée, was the first to insist that something wasn’t right.
She said Valeria needed urgent medical attention.
That we couldn’t waste any time.
I trusted her.
I trusted her completely.
After all, she had been there for me when I needed her most.
