Capítulo 1
"Hasta que no hagas consciente lo que llevas en tu inconsciente, dirigirá tu vida y lo llamarás destino".—Carl Gustav Jung
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La ciudad palpitaba a su propio ritmo. En medio de la multitud, Ailín hizo una pausa al ver que la pantalla se iluminaba con el adelanto del próximo estreno: Historia de una vida.
Su nombre brillaba entre las luces.
"¿De verdad soy yo? ¿La misma chica que una vez vivió llena de miedos e inseguridades?
Se le escapó una risa temblorosa, en parte asombro, en parte ternura.
"¿Quién me iba a decir que a estas alturas de mi vida iba a alcanzar ese sueño que antes me parecía tan lejano? Todo lo que viví, todo lo que superé... Todo eso me trajo hasta aquí".
Dejó escapar un suspiro y sintió que una cálida ola de gratitud subía por su pecho.
"Ailín... Lo lograste. A tu manera, a tu ritmo. Pero tú estás aquí.
Nadie a su alrededor lo sabía, pero la historia que estaban a punto de ver... Era la historia de cómo se salvó a sí misma.
Y entonces, como convocada por sus pensamientos, el recuerdo la recorrió como una ráfaga de viento.
Todo comenzó hace muchos años...
Ailín, hija de madre española y padre chino, creció entre dos culturas. Su primera infancia transcurrió en España, con tardes soleadas y meriendas escolares, hasta que, a los doce años, su familia se trasladó a la ciudad natal de su padre en China.
El cambio fue repentino, como una puerta que se cierra de golpe en todo lo familiar.
Con ello llegaron nuevas presiones: destacar, adaptarse, no decepcionar.
Su padre se mantuvo amable y comprensivo, pero su madre se volvió cada vez más estricta, ansiosa de que su hija no fuera subestimada en una cultura que no entendía completamente. En esa presión, la abuela paterna de Ailín se convirtió en su ancla. Tranquila y sabia, preparaba té de jazmín y decía:
"Ailín, la oscuridad solo tiene poder si le temes. Nómbralo, míralo y verás que no es tan grande como crees".
Ese fue el día en que nació Oscurita.
Ailín la imaginó como una sombra pequeña y burlona, siempre al acecho. A veces sentía un peso en el pecho, como si Oscurita fuera real, un susurro que la arrastraba a la duda.
Cada vez que sentía que no era suficiente, sabía que Oscurita estaba cerca, observándola desde las sombras de su mente.
La sombra no solo perseguía sus pensamientos. Invadió su espacio, como una niebla que no podía sacudirse.
Una tarde lluviosa, Ailín entró por la puerta, empapada y tiritando. Su abuela la recibió con una toalla caliente y té humeante.
—¿Un día difícil? —preguntó ella con dulzura.
Ailín asintió, en silencio. Su uniforme estaba mojado, sus libros estaban salpicados y su corazón estaba cargado de palabras que no se había atrevido a decir.
"Dicen que parezco un extranjero cuando hablo... que nunca seré como ellos", susurró finalmente.
Su abuela le tomó la mano con firmeza.
"Ser diferente no es un defecto, Ailín. Es tu mayor tesoro. Llevas la voz de dos mundos. Úsalo".
That day, something was planted inside her. She didn't know what it would become—but she understood this:
Even darkness can be transformed by light, if you dare to face it.
Time passed, and Ailín learned to live with the voice. She adapted. She excelled at school. She became a strong volleyball player. Thanks to her discipline, she earned a spot at a good university, choosing a major in Communications. Writing was her love, even if her family thought it was just a phase.
Now, she was preparing to try out for the university volleyball team. The program wasn't top-tier, but its sports record was solid. It was enough for her.
The day of the tryout arrived.
The court buzzed with energy. All around her, students warmed up—soccer, basketball, badminton—each focused, each hiding nerves behind forced smiles.
It was the start of the school year. Every sport was recruiting fresh talent.
Ailín felt small in the crowd.
Oscurita whispered from her mind:
"Why are you trying so hard? You'll never be enough."
But something was different this time.
Instead of retreating into doubt, Ailín paused.
She took a deep breath.
She closed her eyes, and there she was—her grandmother's voice, clear and calm:
"Yes, you are enough."
The words filled her with stillness.
Ailín opened her eyes, and for the first time, Oscurita didn't choke her.
She breathed in.
She felt the strength in her legs.
And with a quiet smile, she walked onto the court.
She was ready.
She joined the other girls for the tryouts—serves, volleys, spikes, defense. Ailín performed well and was accepted, along with three others.
All around them, students from other sports trained nearby. Dylan, the captain of the basketball team, noticed a girl on the court. He didn't know her name. But something in the way she moved—so focused, so calm—felt… familiar.
Like he'd found something he didn't know he was searching for.
Dylan was in his second year of engineering. His academic record was excellent. His game was solid. His charm made him popular, but he was cautious with attachments.
Though he was often surrounded by admirers, nothing had sparked real interest in a long time.
He wasn't looking for beauty or popularity. He was searching—quietly—for something deeper.
Vivian, the cheerleading captain, was one of his closest friends. They laughed, trained, shared trust. But Dylan never felt anything beyond friendship. Sometimes, he worried she hoped for more—but he tried not to think about it.
Ailín was thrilled to make the team. The girls welcomed her kindly.
They were from different majors, but among them, a bond formed—especially with Andrea (the team captain), and two others: Valentina and Ana.
Still, being around such outgoing and beautiful girls reminded Ailín of her teenage years. She'd always felt… ordinary. Thin, shy, invisible beside her striking friends. She'd rather stay unnoticed than risk being rejected.
That insecurity made her introverted. Though she was smart and capable, she avoided speaking in class—sometimes giving her answers to others, just to stay out of the spotlight.
Oscurita lingered quietly in the back of her mind.
But this time, Ailín was determined.
"You won't win today," she whispered on her way to the first practice.
Oscurita didn't reply. But Ailín knew she was there, waiting.
Still, this was her beginning.
And she wasn't turning back.
Training ended with aching arms and a warm heart. Andrea praised her. Valentina offered an energy drink with a smile.
For the first time since arriving, Ailín felt like she belonged.
But it didn't last.
The next morning, in her Communication Theory class, the professor asked a question. Ailín knew the answer. She had studied it, written examples in her notebook.
Her heart raced. She wanted to raise her hand.
To participate.
To be seen.
But then, the voice crept in:
"What if you're wrong? Everyone will look. They'll laugh. Let someone else do it."
Oscurita.
Small. Mocking. Lethal.
Ailín lowered her hand before anyone noticed.
Another student answered. Confident.
Everyone nodded. Even her.
She stared down at her notebook. Her chest heavy.
The world outside kept turning, but inside, something had sunk again.
As she walked out of class, Ailín made a promise:
She wouldn't stay silent again.
She wouldn't let Oscurita speak louder than her own voice.
She knew the road ahead wouldn't be easy.
She knew Oscurita would return, again and again, uninvited.
But she also knew this:
Every time she stood her ground—
Even trembling—
Oscurita grew smaller.
And that… was her true victory.
Because healing wasn't about winning once and for all.
It was about choosing, over and over, not to give up.
About taking the next step.
Even if it hurt.
Even if she doubted.
Even if the shadow still whispered in the corners.
This was her beginning.
And she wasn't backing down.