Miguel and I had been married for 7 years. Our marriage was not a fairy tale, but I always strived for our son, for the home I had chosen. From the day of the wedding, I agreed to live with my mother-in-law, Doña Carmen, a woman who had suffered a stroke, was paralyzed on one side and needed attention for every meal and every dream. At first, I thought it was simple: she was my mother-in-law, I was her daughter-in-law, and taking care of her was my duty. But I didn’t expect that burden to last so long, and the most painful thing was that it came from the person who was supposed to share it with me: my husband, Miguel.

Miguel went to work and, when he returned at night, he stayed playing with his phone. All the care of his mother, the food, the water, the medicine, I did by myself. He always said: “You are better at taking care of mom than me. If I do it, she will suffer more.” I didn’t blame him.

I thought it was simple: the wife takes care of the house, the husband does the work. But then I found out that Miguel wasn’t just going to work. He had someone else. It all came to light when I accidentally saw a message: “I’m going again tonight. Being with you is a thousand times more fun than being at home.” I didn’t scream or cry. I didn’t make a fuss.

I just asked him softly, “What are you going to do with your mother, whom you have ignored for all these years?” Miguel was silent. The next day, he moved in. He knew that he had gone to live with that woman. Despite my calls and messages, he did not answer. Doña Carmen, bedridden in her room, knew nothing. She still believed that her son was busy with work and that he would be back in a few days.

I looked at her, at her who once criticized every bite she ate and every nap she took, and who told me that she was “not worthy of being his daughter-in-law.” I felt a lump in my throat. I wanted to leave everything, but then I thought: a person must have dignity. A week later, I called Miguel: “Are you free? I’ll take your mother to take care of her.” On the other end of the line, there was a silence for several seconds, and then she hung up. That afternoon, in silence, I cleaned Doña Carmen, changed her clothes, and folded her bedding.

I packed her medicines, hospital papers, and an old medical notebook in a cloth bag. In the evening, I put her in a wheelchair and said softly, “Mom, I’m going to take you to Miguel’s house for a few days for a change of scenery. Being in one place all the time is boring.” She nodded softly, her eyes shining like a child’s. She didn’t know that she was about to be “returned” to her own son, who had decided to abandon her.

When I arrived, a small apartment, I rang the doorbell. Miguel opened the door, and inside was the other woman, in a silk nightgown, with red lips. They were both speechless as they saw me pushing the wheelchair, with Doña Carmen sitting in it, with an expression of joy. I pushed the wheelchair gently into the living room, arranged the blankets and pillows, and placed the medicine bag on the table. The house smelled of perfume, but it was coldly silent. Miguel stammered, “What are you doing?” …

I smiled, very softly: “Don’t you remember? Mom is yours. I’m just your daughter-in-law. I took care of her for 7 years, that’s enough.” The woman behind Miguel, her face pale, was still holding a spoon of yogurt that she hadn’t put in her mouth. She quickly glanced at the wheelchair and Doña Carmen, who still didn’t understand what was going on and was smiling innocently at the sight of her son. Miguel approached, awkwardly, and tried to grab my hand to stop me.

I stepped aside, as calm as if I were finishing a task I had planned for a long time. “Here’s the medical history, the monthly prescriptions, the diapers, the towels and the cream for the sores. I wrote down all the doses in the notebook.”

I put the notebook on the table and turned to leave. Miguel approached, his voice rising noticeably: “Are you going to abandon my mother? What you’re doing is inhumane!” I stopped, without turning around, stood still for a few seconds and then replied in a low voice: “You ignored her for seven years, what do you call that? I took care of her like my own family, not because of you, but because she is a mother. But now I’m leaving, not out of spite. Alone… I’ve done my part as a human being.” I turned around and looked the other woman straight in the eyes, smiling softly: “If you love him, love him completely. This is the package part.”

Then I took out a document of the ownership of the house and put it on the table: “The house is in my name only. I’m not taking anything. He only took her clothes. But if in the future they need money for mom’s medical bills, I’ll still contribute a portion of it.

Because I was a decent daughter-in-law.” Then I bent down and stroked my mother-in-law’s hair for the last time: “Mom, be a good girl here. If you feel sad, I will come and find you again…” Doña Carmen smiled, her voice trembling: “Yes, come back and visit me again when you return home…” I left the apartment. The door closed behind me, leaving behind a quiet room, the smell of perfume mixed with the mild smell of massage oil. That night, I slept soundly without dreams. The next morning, I woke up early and took my son out for breakfast. A new beginning, without tears, without resentments, just the tranquility of a woman who had given all her love and had learned to let it go at the right time.