Carlos stepped forward first, wrapping his mother in a tight embrace.
“Mom, I’ve missed you so much.”
She cupped his face affectionately, then turned to Ana with an attentive but gentle expression.
“You must be Ana. I’m so happy to finally meet you. I’m Carmen.
Come in, it’s cold out there.”
Ana hesitated for a heartbeat. In her imagination, her mother-in-law had always worn a stern expression and a critical gaze. Instead, Carmen stood there in a flour-dusted apron, carrying the comforting scent of freshly baked bread.
The house felt warm and bright.
Light curtains framed the windows, and the furniture was simple but carefully kept. A few magazines and an open book rested on a nearby table, as if someone had just set it down.
“Sit down, I’ll make some tea,” Carmen said as she headed toward the kitchen. “I baked a cake too.
Carlos always loved it.”
Ana instinctively rose. “I can help, if you’d like.”
“You’re my guests today,” Carmen replied kindly. “Tomorrow, if you feel like it, we can cook together.
For now, just relax.”
That small phrase—if you feel like it—caught Ana off guard. There was no pressure, no expectation hidden beneath it.
The conversation began simply: the trip, their jobs, city traffic. Carmen listened carefully, more than she spoke.
She didn’t comment on Ana’s appearance, her cooking skills, or when they planned to have children.
When Carlos stepped outside to grab the last bags, a brief silence filled the room. Ana’s heart began to race.
Carmen looked at her calmly. “Ana, I know this visit was postponed several times.
I imagine that wasn’t accidental. I just want you to know—I’m not here to judge you.”
The honesty disarmed her.
“I was nervous,” Ana admitted quietly. “I’ve heard so many stories.
Mothers-in-law who interfere, criticize, are never satisfied.”
Carmen gave a slow nod. “I’ve heard those stories too. I even lived through some.
My own mother-in-law was very demanding. I always felt I fell short. I promised myself I wouldn’t repeat that.”
Ana looked up, surprised.
“Really?”
“Of course. Carlos is my son, but his life belongs to him. And you’re his partner, not my competitor.
If I ever offer advice, I’ll ask first. And if you don’t want it, I’ll respect that.”
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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