I dragged her out of the bedroom and pushed her into the storage room just because she dared to contradict her mother-in-law. But the next morning, when I opened the door… she wasn’t there. And in that instant, I knew that perhaps I had crossed a line from which there would be no return.

I was sure she wouldn’t dare leave. Her family lives in Guadalajara, more than 500 kilometers away. In Mérida, where we live, she doesn’t know anyone but me. She doesn’t even have access to all the household accounts. With that certainty, I slept peacefully, with a high pillow next to my mother.

My mother, Doña Rosa, always saw herself as a self-sacrificing woman, the matriarch who had given everything, and she wanted my wife to obey her in everything. I thought: “As a son, it’s my job to take care of my parents. A woman only has to put up with a little; what’s wrong with that?”

My wife, Mariana, is from another city. We met while studying in Mérida. When we talked about getting married, my mother was against it from the start:

“That girl’s family lives so far away. It’ll be such a big expense every time you want to visit.” Mariana cried, but she said firmly:

“Don’t worry. I’ll be your daughter-in-law and take care of your family. I might only visit my parents once a year.”

In the end, I begged, and my mother reluctantly agreed. But from then on, every time I wanted to take Mariana and our son to my in-laws’ house, she made up some excuse.

When our first child was born, Mariana started to change. There were differences of opinion about how to raise him. I thought, “My mother only wants what’s best for her grandson; there’s nothing wrong with listening to her.” But Mariana wouldn’t budge. Sometimes they argued over simple things like giving him baby food or milk. My mother would get angry, bang plates, and then say she was sick from the rage. Recently, when we took the baby to my mother’s house, the situation worsened. The baby had a high fever and seizures. My mother blamed Mariana:

“Don’t you know how to take care of my grandson? How could you let him get so sick?”

I believed her. I took out my frustration on Mariana. She wasn’t hiding her exhaustion anymore.

That night, Mariana didn’t sleep, taking care of the baby. Exhausted from the trip, I went to sleep in my parents’ room.

The next morning, some relatives came to visit. My mother gave her 200 pesos and told her to go to the market to buy things for the meal. I saw Mariana was exhausted. She was just about to say something when my mother shouted:

“If I go to the market, people will make fun of you! I was up all night too. She’s the daughter-in-law, she should be in charge of the cooking!”

Mariana, weak and breathless, replied:

“I was taking care of your grandson all night. Those guests are yours, not mine. I’m your daughter-in-law, not your maid.” My mother looked at me with indignation. I felt ashamed in front of the relatives. Blinded by rage, I grabbed Mariana by the arm and dragged her to the storage room. No mattress, no blanket. I told her:

“I have to be firm so you learn to respect my mother.”

The next day, when I opened the door… Mariana was gone.

I panicked. My mother called the whole family to look for her. A neighbor told us:

“Last night I saw her crying, with a suitcase. I gave her money for a taxi to the airport. She said you were treating her like a servant… and that she’s going to file for divorce.”

My blood ran cold. Finally, Mariana answered my call. Her voice was cold:

“I’m at my parents’ house. I’m filing for divorce in a few days. Our son is staying with me. Half of the assets are mine by law.”

My mother shouted:

“That’s all an act! She wouldn’t dare.”

But I knew: Mariana wasn’t the same anymore.

Three days later, a brown envelope arrived. Inside were the divorce papers, stamped by the Guadalajara court. The reason: “Psychological violence by my husband and his family.”

My mother’s blood was boiling:

“How dare she? A divorced woman is a disgrace to her family. Leave her alone! She’ll come crawling back!”

But I didn’t feel anger. What I felt was fear.

If we divorced, I would lose custody of my son. The law favors the mother when the child is so young.

The relatives from Mérida and Campeche kept talking:

“Leonardo, you were a fool.”

“How could you lock your wife in a room like that? That’s abuse.”

“People already know. Who will want to marry you after that?”

I was consumed by shame.

That night I called Mariana. She appeared on the screen with our son asleep on her chest. I broke inside.

“Mariana… let me see him. I miss him.”

She fixed her eyes on me:

“Now you remember your son? And me, when you locked me up like I was trash? It’s too late, Leo. I’m not coming back to you.”

The following days were a shadow. I couldn’t work. I dreamed that Mariana took the child and I couldn’t reach them.

I realized: for two years I only listened to my mother, never to my wife. I didn’t protect her. I didn’t defend her. She gave up everything for me… and I betrayed her.

One morning, my aunt Doña Lupita approached me:

“Look, son. When a woman files a lawsuit, it’s hard for her to back down. You only have two options: accept it… or truly apologize. And you’d better hurry, because this is now a family matter, a matter of honor.”

I took a deep breath. Mom, the relatives, the social pressure… it was all on my shoulders.

But my fear was singular: never to hear my son call me Dad again every morning.

That night I went out to the patio, looked at the sky, and understood that the moment had come to do what I had never done:

Confront my mother.

And fight to win back my wife and my son.