For my birthday, my husband gave me an empty phone box, while my mother-in-law filmed my reaction with her brand-new iPhone, He thought it was hilarious, until I put him in his place

For my birthday, my husband gave me an empty phone box, while my mother-in-law filmed my reaction with her brand-new iPhone, He thought it was hilarious, until I put him in his place

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The Empty Box

Espironza had expected surprises on her 35th birthday, but never one as cruel as this. The elegantly wrapped iPhone box sat on the table, gleaming under the soft light of the living room. She picked it up with a flutter of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this time Diego had finally listened to her silent pleas for a new phone.

She tore the wrapping paper carefully, eyes bright with anticipation. But when she lifted the lid, her heart sank. The box was empty — no sleek device nestled inside, only foam padding and the usual manuals. Confused, she looked up, but before she could speak, Diego’s laughter erupted like thunder. His mother, Remedios, joined in, her eyes sparkling with cruel delight as she pulled a brand-new iPhone from her purse — the very phone Espironza had dreamed of receiving.

The guests froze, their smiles fading into awkward silence. Diego’s roar of laughter filled the room. “You should have seen your face!” he chuckled, slapping his knee. “I thought it would be funny.”

Espironza tapped the cracked screen of her old phone out of habit, trying to open her email. The device responded sluggishly, lighting up with a uniform white glow before freezing halfway through loading. Her daily battle with this worn-out relic was reaching its inevitable end. It wasn’t that she and Diego couldn’t afford a new smartphone; he had recently upgraded his own. But every time she brought up replacing her battered phone, Diego had a thousand excuses.

“Sweetheart, just hang on a little longer,” he’d say. “Now’s not a good time for that kind of expense. We’ve got the bathroom renovation coming up.” That renovation had been “coming up” for two years, yet the argument never failed to delay her wish.

Espironza didn’t want to seem materialistic or demanding, so she gritted her teeth and kept struggling with her technological dinosaur. For a week now, though, Diego had been smiling mysteriously, hinting at a special surprise for her birthday. “You’re going to love it,” he winked over breakfast. “I came up with something that will blow your mind.”

After seven years of marriage, Espironza had learned not to expect too much from Diego’s surprises. But this time felt different. He seemed unusually excited, almost sincere.

“What would you like as a present?” he asked casually the night before.

“Oh, I don’t really need anything,” she shrugged. Then, hesitating, she added, “Well, except maybe… my phone is dying.”

Diego drew out the word “phone” with a strange smile. “Well, that explains everything.”

Her hopes soared. Could it be that this time, things would be different? That her hints had finally reached him?

Her hopes rose even higher when Remedios suddenly appeared, “on the way to the store,” as she put it, though the store was in the opposite direction. Espironza set the table for tea and brought out her signature pie — Remedios’ favorite dessert baked the day before.

“My Diego is such a creative soul,” Remedios said, adjusting her perfectly styled ash-blonde hair. “He’s got a surprise planned for you that you won’t believe.”

“I hope he’s not planning to jump out of a cake,” Espironza joked, pouring tea.

Remedios pursed her lips, clearly not appreciating the humor. “Young people today don’t know how to value real gifts,” she sniffed. “Back in my day, when a man gave you something, it was a gesture — not like now, where everyone expects expensive gadgets every year.”

Espironza felt her cheeks flush. Her mother-in-law’s remarks always hit home, turning innocent words into stinging barbs.

Later that evening, Diego came home with a large shopping bag, which he quickly hid in the storage room. “No peeking,” he teased, wagging his finger when he noticed her curious glance.

That night, he had a long phone call with his mother, after which he looked unusually pleased with himself. “Yes, Mom. Everything’s ready. She has no idea she’s going to be thrilled.”

Espironza bit her lip. Could it be that Diego had actually chosen the perfect gift this time?

Preparations for the party began two weeks in advance. Espironza made guest lists, called friends, and planned the menu. Diego suggested hosting the celebration at home. “Why go to a restaurant when we’ve got such a spacious apartment?” he insisted. Besides, Remedios said she’d help with the cooking.

Espironza knew that help from her mother-in-law usually meant criticism and redoing everything she had already done, but she didn’t argue. If that was the price for a genuine gift and her husband’s attention, she was willing to pay it.

Three days before the celebration, Remedios sent a message saying she’d come over to help with shopping. “You young ones can’t be trusted. You’ll buy all the wrong things and forget what’s really needed,” she announced, showing up with a huge rolling cart.

They spent the entire day in supermarkets. Remedios insisted on buying ingredients for her favorite salad in massive quantities. “It’s a classic,” she said, though Espironza had planned a lighter menu. Every suggestion Espironza made was dismissed. Remedios stubbornly imposed her own vision of the proper festive table.

“So, do you know what Diego’s getting you?” she asked casually while they waited in line at the checkout.

“No,” Espironza admitted honestly. “He’s keeping it a secret.”

“Good for him,” Remedios smirked. “You’re in for quite a surprise, my dear. You will never guess this one.”

There was something unsettling in her tone, a mix of malice and anticipation, but Espironza brushed it off. Just the usual mother-in-law stuff, she told herself.

The morning of her birthday began in chaos. Diego rushed out early, leaving behind only a cryptic remark: “See you at the party. I’m putting the finishing touches on your surprise.”

Remedios showed up at 10 sharp, carrying a pot of cannelloni — an absolute must for a festive table, as she put it — and immediately took charge of the preparations. Friends began calling to congratulate Espironza, but without her phone, she could only answer on the landline or borrow her mother-in-law’s mobile.

When Remedios went to the store for some forgotten parsley, the doorbell rang. On the doorstep stood her neighbor, Soledad, holding a bouquet of daisies.

“Happy birthday, Espironza. I thought I’d stop by now. I won’t be able to later — I’m heading to the countryside to see my grandkids.”

They went to the kitchen, and Soledad lowered her voice after glancing around. “Your mother-in-law’s here, too, huh?”

“Yes, she’s helping with the cooking,” Espironza sighed.

Soledad shook her head. “I overheard her talking on the phone in the lobby yesterday. She was bragging that her son gave her some fancy, expensive phone. I thought, that’s odd. It’s not even her birthday.”

A lump rose in Espironza’s throat. “No, that can’t be. Diego wouldn’t.”

“You must have misunderstood,” she said with a strange smile. “Diego’s preparing a gift for me, not for her.”

“It’s my birthday today.”

“Oh, forgive me, dear,” Soledad said quickly. “I must be mistaken, silly me, getting forgetful in my old age.” She patted Espironza’s hand. “Don’t pay attention to my nonsense.”

But the seed of doubt had already been planted.

By evening, the apartment was filled with guests. Espironza’s colleagues from accounting had come along with two school friends and their husbands, plus several couples who were friends of Diego. The man of the hour appeared half an hour before the official start of the party, looking mysterious and triumphant, carrying a box wrapped in bright gift paper.

“No peeking until the right moment,” he warned, hiding it in the bedroom.

Espironza realized she could hardly wait to see what was inside.

The box was just the right size for an iPhone package — the exact model she’d been dreaming about for months.

The table was covered with appetizers, salads, and wine. Remedios, acting as the self-appointed master of ceremonies, barked orders about who should sit where and reminded everyone repeatedly that she had prepared most of the dishes.

Finally, when everyone was seated, Diego rose, holding a glass of champagne.

“My friends,” he began solemnly, “we are gathered here today to celebrate the birthday of my wonderful wife, Espironza. For seven years, you’ve made me a happy man, and I want to give you something truly special.”

He paused, and Espironza noticed the smug little smile on Remedios’ face as she exchanged a knowing glance with her son. That uneasy feeling crept back, stronger than before.

Diego drew out the suspense, his eyes glinting with a feverish gleam that made Espironza’s stomach tighten.

Then, he dashed out of the room and returned from the bedroom holding the mysterious, brightly wrapped box.

“My dear, this is for you,” he announced, presenting the gift with a flourish.

The box was light — too light for a phone box — but Espironza dismissed the thought. Maybe it was a decoy and the real phone would appear later.

“Go on, open it,” Diego urged, bouncing in his chair with excitement.

Espironza carefully tore the shiny wrapping paper. It really was an iPhone box, sleek and white, with the Apple logo gleaming in the light. Her heart beat faster. Could it be? Did he actually do it? Were her dreams finally coming true?

Slowly, she lifted the lid, aware of all the eyes fixed on her.

Inside was the neat indentation where the phone should have been, the manual, the earphones — but no phone.

Espironza blinked in confusion. Maybe it was hidden under the instructions. No, the box was completely empty.

She looked up at her husband, bewildered.

“Diego, where—” but she didn’t finish.

Diego was already doubled over in laughter, slapping his knee and throwing his head back. Remedios joined in, laughing shrilly beside him.

“You should have seen your face,” Diego managed between bursts of laughter. “Espironza, you were peering into that box like the phone might magically appear.”

The guests sat frozen in stunned silence. Someone gave a nervous chuckle, unsure if this was really a joke. Most exchanged awkward glances.

“I don’t understand,” Espironza said softly, still holding the empty box.

“What’s there to understand?” Diego wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. “It’s a prank, a joke. You said you wanted a phone, so I thought I’d have some fun.”

Remedios nodded approvingly. “My Diego is such a creative one. Always loved a good prank.”

An uncomfortable silence hung in the room.

Espironza’s colleague, Consuela, cleared her throat. “So, it’s just an empty box? The real present comes later?”

Diego stared at her blankly. “What do you mean, real present? This is the present. Great joke, right?”

He laughed again, but less confidently this time, noticing that no one else was laughing.

“And where’s the phone?” someone finally asked.

“Oh,” Diego’s face lit up. “The phone went to the person who really deserves it — my lovely mom.”

Remedios triumphantly pulled the shiny new iPhone from her purse — the exact same model Espironza would have received if her box hadn’t been empty.

“Diego says I deserve this gift more,” she cooed, stroking the glossy surface. “At my age, it’s important to keep up with the times.”

She raised the phone and aimed the camera at Espironza. “Smile, dear. I’m just learning how to use the camera. Young people should appreciate a good sense of humor, don’t you think?”

Espironza felt the blood drain from her face. Her cheeks burned with humiliation and something clenched painfully in her chest.

Seven years of marriage, and she still hadn’t learned to anticipate these surprises. Who could have imagined her own husband capable of such cruelty?

Slowly, careful not to betray her feelings, she closed the empty box and set it on the table.

“Thank you, Diego,” she said evenly. “A very original gift.”

Diego swept his triumphant gaze over the guests.

“She’s got a sense of humor,” he said proudly.

But the guests did not share his delight.

Espironza’s old school friend, Magros, gave a strange smile and hurried to change the subject. “Shall we move on to dessert? That cake looks absolutely wonderful.”

The evening stumbled on in a strange, tense atmosphere. The guests tried to pretend everything was normal, but the conversation wouldn’t flow. Espironza served dishes on autopilot, answered questions, even tried to smile, but inside she felt only growing emptiness. The humiliation before friends and colleagues was unbearable.

Remedios, oblivious to or deliberately ignoring the discomfort in the room, kept boasting about her new phone.

“Diego chose the most expensive model just for me. He says nothing is too good for his mother.”

She kept swiping across the screen, opening and closing apps, ostentatiously photographing the food and the guests.

“What a sharp camera. Fantastic. Much better than your old phone, right, Espironza?”

Diego beamed with pride, unaware of the pain he was causing his wife or savoring it. Espironza no longer knew which it was.

The accountants were the first to crack. Consuela whispered something to her neighbor, who nodded, and they began to gather their things.

“Espironza, we should go,” Consuela said, hugging her awkwardly. “Thank you for the evening. Stay strong,” she added quietly so no one else would hear.

Others followed their lead.

The party planned to last late into the night fizzled out before 10:00. No one wanted to remain in that atmosphere of pretense and awkwardness.

When the apartment was half empty, Remedios suddenly fussed.

“Oh, I’m so tired. Diego, will you walk me home? At my age, it’s not safe to be out alone in the evenings.”

Diego jumped up at once. “Of course, Mom. Espironza can tidy up in the meantime,” the mother-in-law said.

“Right, dear?”

Espironza nodded silently. She wanted to be alone as soon as possible before the emotions tearing at her spilled over.

Remedios put on her coat, not forgetting to complain loudly about a backache that had flared up so inconveniently.

Diego gallantly offered his arm. “Come on then, Mom.”

Espironza watched them leave the apartment, her mother-in-law leaning on her son’s arm as if she were granting him a great honor, not the other way around. Diego looked like a pleased five-year-old, basking in praise for a good deed.

The remaining guests exchanged embarrassed glances.

When the door closed behind mother and son, Magros came over and hugged Espironza tightly.

“Espironza, this is awful. I don’t even know what to say.”

“It’s fine,” Espironza answered mechanically, though she felt on the verge of tears.

“No, it isn’t.”

Magros’s husband, Abundio, burst out. “This is beyond the pale. How can you humiliate someone like that on her birthday, no less on a milestone birthday?”

“35 is important,” his wife added.

Espironza looked at them, and the tears finally spilled over. She never cried in front of people. Always kept her emotions under control. But now she had no strength left.

“I’m sorry,” she tried to wipe her cheeks. “There’s nothing to explain.”

“Magros,” soothed her friend, rubbing her shoulder. “We understand. What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Espironza admitted. “It’s not the first time, Diego. He’s always liked cruel jokes, but before they weren’t so public.”

“How often does this happen?” Abundio asked gently.

“More and more lately,” Espironza sighed. “It’s like he’s competing with someone to be witty, but his jokes… they aren’t funny. They’re just hurtful. And your mother-in-law seems to encourage it.”

“I saw how she lit up when you opened that empty box, as if it gave her pleasure.”

“Remedios has always thought Diego could do better than me,” Espironza said quietly. “She never says it outright, but she’s always hinting. And Diego, he’s always on her side. Always.”

The remaining guests began to help clean up. The women gathered dishes. The men pushed tables and chairs back into place. They worked mostly in silence, weighed down by what had happened. No one wanted to discuss it in front of Espironza.

“If you want, you can stay with us for a few days,” Magros offered when the two of them were alone in the kitchen. “Clear your head. Get your bearings.”

“Thank you, but I’ll manage.” Espironza gave a faint smile. “It’s not the first time, you know.”

“That’s exactly why I’m worried,” her friend said. “Seriously, this shouldn’t be normal, Espironza. What he did tonight wasn’t just a bad joke. It was… I don’t even know what to call it. It was cruel.”

Espironza nodded silently. She knew it wasn’t normal, but years of married life had trained her to put up with a lot. As her mother once said, “Endure it, dear. Men are all the same.”

Only now was she beginning to realize how far from the truth that was.

When the last guests had gone, Espironza was left alone in the half-tied apartment. Diego had been gone for over an hour. Apparently, he decided to linger at his mother’s.

She mechanically gathered the remaining dishes, wiped the tables, packed leftovers into containers. Her eyes kept drifting to the empty iPhone box she still hadn’t thrown away, sitting at the edge of the table like a mute reminder of the night’s humiliation.

Diego’s phone, forgotten in the commotion, suddenly rang. The screen lit up with “Mom.” Espironza hadn’t intended to answer but decided to pick up anyway, just in case something had happened.

“Hello, Diego,” came her mother-in-law’s agitated voice. “Where have you been? I’ve been waiting half an hour. I need you to show me how this picture thing works. I can’t figure it out.”

Her voice sounded petulant, like a spoiled child’s.

“Remedios, it’s Espironza,” she replied coolly. “Diego isn’t here.”

“I thought he was with you.”

Silence on the other end.

“Oh, it’s you,” the older woman said at last with audible disappointment. “No, Diego’s not here. He walked me home and said he was popping into the store for cigarettes.”

“I see. When he shows up, please tell him I’m waiting at home.”

“Of course, dear,” Remedios said, unable to hide her gloating. “By the way, how did you like our surprise? Diego worked so hard to come up with something original.”

Espironza said nothing, fighting the urge to pour out everything that had built up over the years.

“Hello? Are you there?” the mother-in-law pressed.

“Yes, I’m here.”

Espironza took a deep breath. “The surprise was unforgettable.”

“Good night, Remedios.” She hung up before the woman could answer.

Her hands were shaking with restrained anger.

Why did she keep putting up with this? Why did she let them treat her this way?

Espironza sank heavily onto a chair and covered her face with her hands.

Maybe Magros was right. Maybe she really should leave for a few days and think. This couldn’t go on.

In the hallway, a key turned in the lock. The door swung open, and Diego appeared smelling of cigarettes and alcohol.

“Oh, you’re still up?”

He tossed his jacket on the rack.

“So, did you get the place cleaned up?”

“I stayed a bit at Mom’s. She just couldn’t figure out the new phone.”

He snorted. “Technology, you know.”

Espironza stared at him without moving.

Oblivious to her mood, Diego went to the kitchen and opened the fridge.

“I’m starving. Anything left from the party?”

He pulled out a slice of cake and dug in with relish.

“Delicious. Mom always says your hands grow out of the wrong place, but this cake really turned out well.”

Espironza remained silent.

“Hey, why the long face?”

He finally noticed.

“Don’t tell me you’re still upset about my little joke.”

“It was just a prank. You can’t be so serious, Espironza.”

“Your joke humiliated me in front of all our friends and colleagues,” Espironza said quietly.

“Oh, come on.” Diego waved it off. “So, I teased you a little. The effect was amazing. You should have seen your face when you opened the box.”

“I saw your face when you were laughing at me,” she said, her voice even quieter. “And your mother’s face when she was showing off the new phone — the phone I’ve been dreaming about for the last six months, and you knew it perfectly well.”

“There you go again.”

Diego tossed his fork down in irritation. “You’re always dramatizing. It was just a joke. You get it? A joke. My mom deserved that phone more than you do. She raised me, gave me an education, devoted her whole life to me. And what have you done? You cook every now and then. The apartment’s a mess, and you’re always complaining about something.”

Espironza rose from her chair.

“I’m going to bed. Happy birthday to me.”

She headed for the kitchen door, but Diego grabbed her by the arm.

“No, you’re not going anywhere until we finish this conversation. Why can’t you just admit it was a funny joke? Why do you always make a mountain out of a molehill?”

“Because it wasn’t funny, Diego.”

She pulled her arm free.

“It was hurtful and humiliating like most of your jokes lately.”

“Oh, of course.”

He threw up his hands.

“Now you’re going to bring up every little thing. You just don’t have a sense of humor, that’s all. Mom’s always said you’re too uptight.”

“Your mother has said plenty about me,” Espironza replied wearily. “And you always listen to her, not to me.”

She turned and left the kitchen, leaving Diego muttering indignantly under his breath.

In the bedroom, Espironza mechanically changed into her nightgown, lay down, and switched off the lamp.

In the dark, staring at the ceiling, she made a decision that had been forming for a long time.

This couldn’t go on. Something had to change.

An hour later, Diego stumbled into the bedroom. He was no longer angry. Alcohol and fatigue had done their work.

He undressed without turning on the light and slipped under the covers.

“Espironza, are you asleep?” he whispered.

She didn’t answer, pretending to be asleep.

“Espironza, I know you’re not sleeping.”

He moved closer.

“Listen, I’m sorry if I went too far. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just wanted it to be fun. Don’t be mad, okay?”

His hand settled on her shoulder, but Espironza didn’t move.

Diego sighed and rolled over.

“Fine, have it your way. Good night.”

Soon his breathing evened out. He was asleep.

Espironza lay with her eyes open, staring into the darkness and imagining how in the morning her mother-in-law would be bragging about her new phone to the neighbors. How she would tell them what a caring son she had and what an ungrateful daughter-in-law. How Diego would be proud of himself, convinced he’d pulled off the perfect prank.

“This isn’t funny,” Espironza thought. “It’s just cruel.”

She lay awake a long time that night, replaying the day’s events and listening to her husband’s steady breathing beside her. She wondered how many more such jokes she would have to endure if nothing changed.

The morning after her birthday greeted Espironza with a heavy hangover, though she had barely drunk the night before. It was her heart that hurt, not her head.

She slipped carefully out of bed so as not to wake the snoring Diego. The clock read 6:15 — too early for a day off, but she couldn’t fall back asleep.

In the kitchen, the remnants of the party still lingered — unwashed plates, half-eaten salads, empty bottles. And that same iPhone box still sat on the edge of the table, a silent reminder of last night’s humiliation.

Espironza put the kettle on automatically, sat at the table, and stared at the box. She picked it up, ran her hand over the glossy surface with the image of the phone she had so wanted, and then, with a sudden, desperate resolve, tossed the packaging into the trash.

The sound of the front door opening made her flinch.

“So early? Who could it be?”

“Espironza, you’re already up?” came Remedios’s sickly sweet voice. “I brought fresh rolls for breakfast. I thought I’d drop by on my way back from morning exercise.”

“What kind of exercise at 6:00 in the morning?” Espironza thought but said nothing.

Without waiting to be invited, her mother-in-law headed for the kitchen and set a bag of pastries on the table.

“Oh, you still haven’t cleaned up?” She pursed her lips pointedly. “Ah, young people, young people. Such laziness won’t do. And is Diego still asleep?”

“Yes,” Espironza replied curtly.

“Good, let him rest, my golden boy.”

Remedios coughed, pulling a brand-new phone from her purse.

“Look what he helped me set up yesterday. I even know how to take those, what do you call them? Selfies now.”

She turned the screen toward Espironza, showing a photo from the night before — Remedios with her arm around her son, both grinning broadly. Behind them was Espironza’s bewildered face just after she had opened the empty box.

“Great shot, isn’t it?” the older woman smirked. “That expression on your face — priceless. Diego is a genius to come up with such a prank.”

“I need a shower,” Espironza said, standing up from the table before she lost control.

“Of course, of course,” Remedios nodded. “I’ll just tidy up a bit while you’re gone. I’ll make Diego some breakfast. He loves eggs with tomatoes.”

In the bathroom, Espironza turned the water on full blast to drown out the sounds of dishes clattering and her mother-in-law’s humming.

The hot streams pounded her face, mingling with the tears she finally allowed herself to shed.

The humiliation of the previous day, the mother-in-law’s barbs, her husband’s indifference — everything crashed over her with renewed force.

“How much longer am I going to put up with this?” she asked herself, scrubbing her skin until it turned red, as if she could wash the whole situation away.

When she came out of the shower, she heard lively conversation in the kitchen.

Diego was awake and eating heartily while his mother cooed over him.

“Eat up, Diego. Build your strength. You went to bed so late. Must be exhausted from helping me with the phone.”

“Yeah, Mom. These gadgets are complicated. Not everyone can figure them out,” Diego replied with mock gravity.

“Exactly. You’ve got a knack for technology, just like your father. Some people don’t have that kind of talent,” she said, casting a meaningful look toward the doorway where Espironza stood.

“Good morning, Espironza,” she said coolly.

“Oh, morning to you, too.”

Diego looked up. “We’re having breakfast. Join us.”

He looked utterly carefree, as if last night’s incident had long since been forgotten.

“No thanks,” Espironza shook her head. “I don’t have an appetite.”

“That’s a mistake,” Remedios lectured. “At your age, you need to watch your diet. Otherwise, you’ll lose your figure. And Diego needs a beautiful wife.”

Espironza walked to the bedroom without a word and began to dress.

The sound of the TV floated in from the living room. Clearly, the mother and son idol had moved there. They laughed at some show, paying her no mind.

Espironza took a bag from the closet and started packing the essentials — two changes of clothes, documents, a phone charger.

Even though the phone itself was hopelessly dead, the decision had fully ripened.

She would go to Magros’s, just as her friend had offered. She needed time to think away from this toxic duo.

“Where are you going?” Diego appeared in the bedroom doorway.

Seeing her packing to Magros’s, Espironza answered shortly, “I’ll stay with her for a few days. Out of the blue, because of last night.”

“Don’t exaggerate, Espironza. So, we joked a little. You’re not seriously offended, are you?”

“Seriously?” Espironza said, zipping the bag. “And this isn’t the first time, Diego. I’m tired of the jokes you and your mother play. I need time to think.”

“What is there to think about?” He spread his hands. “I love you. You love me. We live in perfect harmony.”

“In harmony,” Espironza let out a bitter laugh. “Do you even notice me lately? My needs, my wants? Or is the only thing that matters what your mother wants?”

“Oh, so that’s it.”

Diego pointed at her triumphantly.

“You’re jealous of my mother.”

“She was right.”

“Who was right?” Remedios’s voice.

Of course, she’d been eavesdropping outside the door.

“You, Mom.”

Diego turned to her.

“You said Espironza was jealous of you. Look, she’s packing to leave. She’s mad because I gave you a phone.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.”

Remedios rolled her eyes theatrically.

“What a drama. All over some foam.”

“It’s not about the phone.”

Espironza raised her voice.

“It’s about how you both treat me. The lack of respect. The constant humiliations. The way you turned my milestone birthday into a farce.”

“No one humiliated you.”

Diego waved her off.

“You just take everything too seriously. Mom, tell her.”

“Of course, dear. You’re exaggerating.”

Remedios stepped closer.

“We were just having a little fun. If you had a sense of humor.”

“I do have a sense of humor,” Espironza cut in. “But humor isn’t supposed to hurt. What you did last night wasn’t a joke. It was… mockery.”

“Oh my, such big words.”

Remedios threw up her hands.

“Hear that, Diego? Apparently, we were mocking her. So much for gratitude after everything you do for her.”

“And what exactly does he do for me?”

Espironza looked her mother-in-law straight in the eye.

“What do you mean?”

“What?”

Remedios bristled.

“He supports you. Puts a roof over your head. You’re not starving, are you?”

“Mom, don’t.”

Diego tried to stop her, but she was already on a roll.

“No, I’ll say it. Who else would have wanted you besides my son? No education, no connections, no dowry. He married you out of pity.”

“Mom!”

Diego tugged at her sleeve.

“What? Mom, I’m telling the truth. And she turns up her nose. She wants phones, no less. You should be grateful my son even paid attention to you.”

Espironza felt a lump rise in her throat but decided not to show emotion.

“Not now, not in front of them. Thank you for sharing your thoughts, Remedios.”

She swung the bag over her shoulder.

“That explains a lot.”

“Where are you going?”

Diego blocked her path to the door.

“We’re not finished talking.”

“I’m finished,” Espironza said firmly. “Let me pass.”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

He grabbed her by the arm, put the bag down, and calmed down.

“Let me go.”

Espironza’s voice was quiet, but there was steel in it.

“Let her go, Diego,” Remedios interjected. “Let her cool off. Come to her senses and realize that without you, she’s nothing. Hear that, Espironza?”

Diego loosened his grip a little.

“Go cool down. When you come back, we’ll talk calmly.”

He finally let her arm go.

Espironza walked past him into the hallway, took her coat and keys.

“Where are you going?” her husband called after her when she was already at the door.

“I told you — Magros,” she answered without turning around.

“And how long are you going to stay there?”

There was a hint of worry in his voice.

“I don’t know,” Espironza answered honestly. “I need to think about a lot of things.”

“But dinner,” Diego began. “Your mother will cook for you.”

Espironza closed the door behind her without waiting for his reply.

Stepping out of the apartment, she felt a strange sense of relief, as if she had taken a heavy backpack off her shoulders. For the first time in a long while, she was acting decisively without looking back at Diego’s or his mother’s reaction. It felt liberating.

On the stair landing, she ran into the neighbor Soledad.

“Where are you off to with a bag so early?” the elderly woman asked curiously.

“To a friend’s for a couple of days,” Espironza replied.

“Ah,” the neighbor drew out. “After last night, huh? In your place, I’d leave too. I saw your crowd leaving. Everyone looked so sour. And then your mother-in-law was bragging all over the building about her new phone. Said her son gave it to her and didn’t skimp on his own mother — not like certain daughters-in-law who only drain money from the family.”

Espironza winced.

“She said that and worse.”

Soledad lowered her voice.

“Said, ‘You’re sponging off her son. Don’t want to work. Only think about clothes.’ I work five days a week in accounting.”

Espironza protested.

“And I always pay half the rent myself.”

“What do I care? I know.”

The neighbor spread her hands.

“It’s not me you need to explain it to. It’s her. Only she won’t listen. For her, you’ll never be a match for her precious Diego.”

Espironza sighed.

“Yeah, looks like it.”

“Listen,” Soledad hesitated. “Don’t go back to him. He’s not worth you. And neither is his mama. I’ve known their family for a long time. His father ran off when Diego was about five. Couldn’t stand her character. And ever since then, she’s treated her son like property. Won’t give him to anyone.”

“Thanks for the advice.”

Espironza managed a faint smile.

“I have to go.”

She stepped out into the fresh morning air.

The morning was clear but chilly. Espironza shivered and walked toward the bus stop. The city was just waking up. A few passersby hurried about their business. No one paid attention to the woman with a bag whose life had just taken a sharp turn.

On the bus, she took out her phone out of habit, wanting to call Magros, then remembered it didn’t work. She’d have to go without warning and hope her friend was home.

Luckily, Magros was home.

She opened the door, saw Espironza with a bag, and understood everything without words.

“Come in,” she said, hugging her friend. “I had a feeling you’d come. I’ve already made up the guest room.”

“Thank you.”

Espironza walked into the apartment gratefully.

Magros lived with her husband, Abundio, in a spacious three-room flat. They didn’t have children yet, and one room served as the guest room.

“Is Abundio at work?” Espironza asked, taking off her coat.

“Yeah, he’s on shift today. He’ll be back in the evening.”

Magros helped with the bag.

“Come to the kitchen. I’ll put on some tea. Tell me what happened after we left.”

Over tea, Espironza told her about Diego’s return, his drunken apologies, the early visit from her mother-in-law, and the final scene before she left.

“You did the right thing leaving,” Magros nodded after listening. “That’s not a family anymore. It’s a toxic swamp. You’ve been drowning in it for seven years already. Enough.”

“Seven years?” Espironza echoed. “You know, the scariest part is I’m only now realizing how abnormal everything between us has been. And I used to think I loved him.”

“Maybe you did,” Magros shrugged. “But love shouldn’t make you a punching bag. Well, a girl for beating. In your case,” she added with a sad smirk.

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