We got married three years ago.
And during the first half everything seemed to be going smoothly.
My mother lived in the family home and my sisters passed by often. It was normal in San Miguel del Valle that the family was always coming and going. On Sundays we almost always ended up sitting around the same table.
Eating, talking, remembering stories from the past.
Lucy at first did everything possible to please them.
He cooked.
He made coffee.
I listened respectfully when my sisters talked for hours.
I saw it as something normal.
But after a while I started noticing small details.
Comments that seemed like jokes… but they were not entirely.
“Lucia cooks well, but she still needs to learn how Mom did it,” said my older sister, Isabel.
“The women of the past did know how to really work,” Patricia added as she looked at Lucía with an all-too-perfect smile.
Lucía only lowered her head and continued washing dishes.
I listened to all that.
But he didn’t say anything.
Not because I agreed.
But because… That was how it had always been.
Eight months ago, Lucía became pregnant.
When he gave us the news I felt a joy that I cannot describe. It was as if suddenly the house had a new future.
My mother cried with emotion.
My sisters seemed happy, too.
But as the months went by… Something began to change.
Lucia began to tire faster.
It was normal.
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