— 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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