When I went back to my hometown to ask about the nearly five million pesos I had saved, my mother said a single sentence that made me collapse to the floor, crying silently…
My wife and I had been married for seven years.
Lucía, my wife, wasn’t a glamorous or eye-catching woman, but she was gentle, hardworking, and always tried to keep harmony in our home.
I earned a solid income working as a supervisor at a logistics company in Guadalajara. Each month I gave Lucía 5,000 pesos for household costs, and I kept the rest.
Lucía never complained.
She simply did whatever she could to stretch the money.
Sometimes she sold clothes online.
Other times she taught private lessons at night to earn a bit more.
With that money she covered our son’s school fees, the rent, electricity, gas, and groceries.
One day I received a large bonus at work: nearly 200,000 pesos.
Lucía calmly said to me:
— We should put that money into a savings account for both of us. We never know when we might need it.
But I replied coldly.
Lucía smiled sadly… but she didn’t say anything more.
That same weekend I drove to my mother’s village, on the outskirts of Zacatecas, and gave her all the money.
She took it quickly.
Her eyes lit up in a way that, at that moment, I didn’t notice.
— Of course, my son — she said. — The money you earn should stay in the family. I will keep it for you… that way you won’t have problems with your wife.
From that moment on, I trusted my mother completely.
Whenever Lucía asked about the money, I responded irritably:
— It’s my money. I decide where to keep it. Don’t get your hopes up.
As time passed, the arguments between us started to increase.
Lucía was worn out from working two jobs, but I accused her of being lazy.
When she asked me for more money to cover our son’s school expenses, I exploded:
— All you have to do is take care of the house and the kid! If you can’t even do that properly, what are you even here for?
One night, after a terrible argument, Lucía didn’t scream.
She didn’t cry.
She simply started packing her clothes in silence.
When she finished, she left a piece of paper on the table.
It was a divorce petition, already signed.
She looked at me with tired eyes and said quietly:
— I’m tired, Daniel. I don’t want to live in a house where my voice has no value. I will take our son with me.
I laughed with contempt.
I thought to myself:
“Good. That way I don’t have to support her anymore.”
I signed the papers without hesitation.
On the day of the court hearing, Lucía didn’t ask for anything.
No money.
No house.
She only asked for custody of our son.
Holding the child in her arms, she slightly bowed to my mother as a sign of respect.
Her eyes were filled with sadness… but also determination.
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