Miguel and I had shared seven years of marriage. Though our union was far from perfect, I had consistently dedicated myself – both to our child and the home I chose.
From the moment we wed, I agreed to live with my mother-in-law, Doña Carmen. She was a woman who had suffered a stroke, left partially paralyzed, and in need of constant care during meals and rest.
At first, I believed looking after her would be straightforward. After all, she was my mother-in-law, and I was the daughter-in-law. Caring for her felt like my responsibility.
However, I hadn’t anticipated the burden stretch out for so long. The most painful part was that it came from the very person with whom I was supposed to share the load: my husband, Miguel.
Every day, Miguel left for work, and upon returning home at night, he seemed glued to his phone. The entire responsibility for his mother’s meals, hydration, and medication rested solely on me.
He often said, “You care for mom better than I ever could. If I tried, it’d only be worse for her.” I never blamed him.
I convinced myself this was the norm—women look after the household while men earn the living. Yet I was shocked when I discovered Miguel wasn’t just working. In fact, he was involved with someone else.
Everything surfaced unexpectedly when I noticed a message: “I’m coming over tonight again. Being with you is thousands of times better than being at home.”
I did not yell or cry. There was no drama at all.
I calmly asked him, “What will you do about your mother—the one you’ve ignored all these years?” Miguel remained silent. The very next day, he left. I was certain he had moved in with that woman.
He ignored my calls and messages. Meanwhile, Doña Carmen, confined to her bed, remained unaware. She still believed her son was busy at work and would return soon.
Looking at her—the same woman who once criticized my every move and every bite I ate, insisting I was unworthy of being her daughter-in-law—my throat tightened.
I felt like surrendering but then reminded myself that dignity must remain.
“One must always preserve their self-respect, even amid the hardest trials.”
A week later, I contacted Miguel: “Do you have a moment? I’m bringing your mother over so you can take care of her.”
A brief silence crackled over the line, followed by the sound of him hanging up. That afternoon, I bathed Doña Carmen, dressed her in clean clothes, and folded her linens.
Into a cloth bag, I packed her medications, hospital documents, and an old notebook containing her medical records.
As evening approached, I gently settled her in a wheelchair and softly said, “Mom, I’m taking you to Miguel’s for a few days so you can enjoy some fresh air. Staying in the same place all the time gets dull.”
She barely nodded, her eyes sparkling childlike. Little did she know she was being “returned” to the son who had chosen to abandon her.
When I arrived, the apartment was modest. Pressing the doorbell, Miguel opened the door, and behind him stood the other woman, draped in a silk robe, her lips painted bright red.
Both stared speechless as I wheeled in a smiling and unsuspecting Doña Carmen.
I moved the wheelchair into the living room, arranged blankets and pillows, and placed the bag of medicines on the table. Though the apartment tingled with perfume, it was cold and silent. Miguel stammered, “What do you think you’re doing?”
With a faint smile, I replied, “Forgot already? Mom is yours now. I am only your daughter-in-law. Seven years of care is enough.”
The woman beside him, paler than a sheet, held a spoonful of yogurt halfway to her mouth.
Her gaze fixed on the wheelchair and Doña Carmen, who still didn’t understand and smiled at her son. Miguel clumsily approached, grasping my hand as if to prevent my departure.
I stepped back calmly, as if concluding an important task: “Here are medical files, monthly prescriptions, diapers, towels, and ointments for bedsores. I’ve noted all dosages in the notebook.”
I laid down the notebook and turned to leave. Miguel raised his voice: “You want to abandon my mother? What you’re doing is inhuman!”
I paused without looking back and softly answered, “You neglected her for seven years—what would you call that?
I cared for her like family. Not for you, but because she is a mother. Now I’m leaving—free of resentment. I only fulfilled my duty as a human being.”
Turning toward the other woman with a gentle smile, I added, “If you love him, love him fully. That’s part of the deal.”
I then produced a deed to the apartment and placed it on the table: “This house belongs solely to me. I take nothing. He only brought his clothes here.
But if you ever need funds for mom’s medical care, I’ll contribute because I have been a worthy daughter-in-law.”
Bending down, I stroked my mother-in-law’s hair one last time: “Mom, be well. If you ever feel sad, I’ll come to get you…”
Doña Carmen smiled faintly, her voice trembling, “Yes, come visit me when you’re home again…” I left the apartment.
The door closed behind me, filling the room with silence, scented faintly by perfume and the subtle aroma of massage oil.
That night, I slept soundly, without dreams.
Early the next morning, I awoke and enjoyed breakfast with my son. It was a new chapter—void of tears or bitterness, filled only with the calmness of a woman who had offered all her love and learned to let go at the right moment.
- Seven years of caregiving without support
- The shock of discovering a hidden affair
- Restoration of dignity by choosing to leave
- Graceful transition of responsibility for a bedridden mother
- The peaceful acceptance of a new beginning
Key Insight: Respect and human dignity must never be sacrificed, even when love and loyalty are tested.
Through this experience, I embraced the strength to release what no longer served me, prioritizing self-respect while honoring my commitments. This story reflects the deep challenges in caregiving, betrayal, and the difficult choices that ultimately lead to personal peace.