My 15-year marriage to Javier ended abruptly, to the surprise of many. To everyone, we had always been the model of a successful family: the businessman husband, the devoted wife, two studious children, and the spacious mansion in an exclusive neighborhood of Mexico City. But only I knew that behind that brilliance were impossible-to-heal cracks.
Javier was unfaithful to me.
Not once, but many times. I endured, I forgave, but the more I forgave, the more he abused me.
Until one day he had the nerve to bring his mistress into our own home and told me to my face:
“Just take care of the children and the family. My business is none of yours.”
At that moment, I knew the marriage was long dead.
I signed the divorce without arguing, without tears.
Some called me naive, but in reality, I had been planning everything for some time. The mansion, valued at tens of millions of pesos, was in my name. For years, my mother-in-law and Javier’s 12 relatives lived there as if it were their own.
They came and went as they pleased, even going so far as to tell me I was just “a stranger living on borrowed time.” I endured for my children.
But with the divorce finalized, I knew it was time to finally let it all go. The day I received the final documents, I announced without hesitation:
“I’m donating this mansion to a charity, to become a home for orphaned children and elderly adults without families.
Starting next week, everyone must vacate.”
Javier’s family was stunned. Murmurs, cries, and reproaches were heard.
My mother-in-law screamed in despair, grabbed my arm, and yelled:
“Are you crazy?
So my 12 relatives are going to be homeless? Don’t you have a conscience?”
I looked her straight in the eyes and coldly replied:
“You yourself always told me I was ‘a stranger,’ didn’t you? Well, today I’m making good on your words.
A stranger doesn’t have to support 12 members of her family.
I prefer to donate the house to help those who truly need it, not those who only know how to live at the expense of others and belittle them.”
That phrase left her speechless. She couldn’t reply; she just stood there, her hands shaking.
Everyone around her fell silent. The once haughty glances lowered, heavy.
They knew I was no longer the submissive daughter-in-law I had been before.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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