Chapter 5
But that evening, I stood alone in my living room and discovered something unexpected.
Silence could also mean peace.
Three days later, my mother came over.
She was sixty-three, with silver beginning to show in her black hair and hands roughened by decades of running a small fabric shop.
She brought groceries.
Rice.
Vegetables.
Fresh fish.
And mangoes, because she remembered they were my favorite.
She found me sitting at the kitchen table staring at a cup of coffee.
“Have you eaten?” she asked.
I shook my head.
She didn't scold me.
She simply began cooking.
After a while, I asked the question I'd been holding inside for days.
“Ma, do you think I failed?”
She stopped chopping vegetables.
“Failed at what?”
“My marriage.”
She put down the knife.
Then she sat across from me.
“Maria, when I gave you this house, I wasn't giving you an obligation to remain married.”
Tears filled my eyes.
“I thought Adrian loved me.”
“Maybe he did once,” she replied gently. “But love is not something a person can use as an excuse for betrayal.”
I looked down.
“I kept trying to be a good wife.”
“I know.”
“I helped his family. I worked hard. I tried not to complain.”
My mother's eyes softened.
“And somewhere along the way, you forgot to be good to yourself.”
I began crying.
She reached across the table and held my hand.
“Listen to me. A broken marriage doesn't mean you're a broken woman.”
I held her hand so tightly she couldn't pull away.
“And that house?” she continued. “I didn't work thirty years so another woman could walk through the door and tell my daughter to leave.”
Despite my tears, I laughed.
Mom smiled.
“Now eat. You can be heartbroken after lunch.”
Over the next several weeks, the truth began to spread.
Apparently, Adrian had told his relatives that the house had been purchased with his salary.
He'd described himself as the primary provider.
He'd even told Vanessa that after our divorce, he would keep the house because he'd paid for most of it.
When she discovered the truth, she was furious.
And the situation became even more embarrassing when she learned something else.
Adrian didn't have the successful career he'd described.
His salary was modest.
His credit cards were close to their limits.
And the luxury lifestyle he'd shown her existed largely because I had been paying the household expenses.