I laughed and said, “You’re getting old, Mom, it’s strange to think about it. Hector and I will be happy.”
Mom just smiled, with a distant, sad look in her eyes. I hugged the pillow to my chest, feeling as if she were sitting next to me, stroking my hair and comforting me.
It turned out she always knew how much her daughter would suffer if she chose the wrong man. It turned out she had a plan B for me; not a rich one, but one that would save me from despair.
That night I lay on the hard bed in my small rented room, clutching my pillow to my chest as my tears soaked the pillowcase.
But this time I wasn’t crying for Hector. I was crying because I loved my mother.
I cried because I felt happy that at least I still had a place to come back to, a mother who loved me, and a big world waiting to welcome me.
The next morning, I woke up early, carefully folded my pillow, and packed it in my suitcase. I told myself I’d rent a smaller room, closer to work.
Childbirth classes
I will send my mom more money and live a life where I won’t have to shiver in the cold or wait for an indifferent text message.
I smiled at myself in the mirror.
This woman with swollen eyes will from now on live for herself, for her elderly mother at home, and for all the unfinished dreams of her youth.
That marriage, that old pillow, that smile… it was all just the end of a sad chapter. And as for my life, there were still many new pages to be written with my own, persistent hands.
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