I am 65 years old.

And after 37 years of marriage, I was abandoned by the man with whom I shared almost my entire life.

On the day of the divorce, my ex-husband, Don Rafael, handed me a bank card.

He said calmly,

“Here’s 3,000 pesos. It’ll be enough to get you through a few months.”

He said it as if those 37 years together were worth only that much.

As if I were an old object that was no longer useful. I watched him turn and leave the family court in Guadalajara, without looking back.

I felt a lump in my throat so tight I could barely breathe.

I put the card away.

Not because I needed it…
but because it was like a thorn stuck in my heart.

After the divorce, I lived in a small, damp room on the outskirts of the city.

I survived by doing whatever I could: cleaning houses, watching cars, collecting bottles in the street.

Those were the darkest years of my life. I went hungry many times.

Many nights I went to bed with an empty stomach.

But I never touched those 3,000 pesos.

Not because I was proud…
but because I didn’t want to touch something that felt like charity.

I hated that card.

I hated the abandonment.

I hated feeling that, after a whole life, I was just a burden. Time passed slowly, like a dull knife, cutting slowly but deeply.

My body aged quickly.

There were days when getting out of bed was a battle.

My children came around occasionally, leaving me some money, but they had their own families.

I never told them about my pain or my dizziness.

I didn’t want to be another worry.

Until one day…
I fainted in front of the door of the room where I lived.

The doctor was clear:

“Severe malnutrition. You need treatment. Hospitalization.”

I knew I had no choice.

For the first time in five years, I thought about that card.

“It only has 3,000 pesos… but at least it’ll help me for a few days.”

The next morning I went to the bank.

My hands were shaking as I handed the card to the young teller.

“I’d like to withdraw the whole amount, please.”

In my mind, I was already picturing myself walking out with a few bills, returning to my miserable life.

But the girl stared at the screen… for too long.

Then she looked at me.

Her eyes were filled with surprise.

“Ma’am…” she swallowed, “the balance isn’t 3,000 pesos.”

My heart leapt.

“So… how much is it?”

She printed the statement and slid it toward me.

I looked at the paper.

And I felt like the world stopped.

$983,000 pesos.
Almost a million.

I gasped.

I thought I was misreading.

I looked again.

The number hadn’t changed.

“Who… who deposited this money?” I asked, my voice trembling.

The cashier turned the screen toward me.

There was a name I knew all too well.

RAFAELT. ​​Monthly transfers.
For five years.
Without missing a single one.

I went home in silence.

I didn’t sleep that night.

I just stared at the ceiling, crying.

I remembered his sad gaze.
His strange silences.
The nights he stayed awake, thinking I was asleep.

What if… he hadn’t left me because he didn’t love me?

I needed answers.

The next day I traveled to the town where his older sister, Doña Teresa, lived, in Michoacán.

The house was small, next to the cornfields.

“Teresa… are you there?” I called, my voice breaking.

She came out, and when she saw me, her eyes filled with tears.

“María… you’re here.”

“Where’s Rafael? I need to talk to him.”

Doña Teresa was silent.

She went inside and came back with a small wooden box.

Her hands were trembling.

“María… Rafael passed away.”

I felt like my heart was being ripped out.

“No… it can’t be… it’s only been five years…”

She wept.

“He had terminal cancer… even before the divorce.”

My world crumbled.

“He didn’t want you to take care of him,” she continued. “He didn’t want you to spend your last years watching the man you love die.
That’s why he left.

That’s why he set you free.”

She handed me the box.

—This is for you. He said to only give it to you if you came to get it.

Inside was a letter.

His handwriting.

Maria,
When you read this, I won’t be here anymore.
Forgive me for leaving in the cruelest way.

It hurt me more than you can imagine.

I didn’t want you to take care of me while I faded away.

I wanted you to live without chains, without tears.
The money is so you’ll never lack anything.

Eat well. Live well.

I don’t need your forgiveness.

I just want you to be happy.

If there’s another life… I would choose you again.

I fell to my knees.

I cried like a child.

For five years I lived hating him…
while he fought against death,
sending me money month after month,
until his hands could do it no longer.

I thought he abandoned me.

But the truth was different:

He loved me so much… that he chose to leave alone.

Before his photograph on the family altar, I touched the frame with trembling fingers.

“Why didn’t you tell me…?”

But he could no longer answer.

That day, when I held the card with 3,000 pesos, I thought I was an abandoned woman.

Five years later, before his memory, I understood the truth:

I was never alone.

I was loved… until the very end.