«Mom, you don’t have to do that,» Michael said when he found out, his eyes red. «I’ll get a job. I’ll—»
I interrupted him, putting my hand on his shoulder. «You just need to study hard. I want you to do what I never could.» Michael hugged me, and for the first time, I felt he was no longer a child who needed my protection.
Michael didn’t let me down. After years of effort and study, he built a two-story house on the outskirts of Chicago. The day he handed me the keys, I stood in front of those new walls and cried.
«Mom, I promised you,» Michael said smiling, with a choked voice. «This is our house. No one can kick us out now.»
I hugged him, feeling in his body the sweat, tears, and love he had put into every brick. For the first time in a long time, I felt I had done the right thing by not giving up.
When Michael married Jessica, I thought my family was finally complete. Jessica, back then, was a sweet girl with a smile as lovely as orange blossoms. In the beginning, she used to come into the kitchen with me, cheerful, telling me her future plans with Michael.
«Mom, I want to have lots of kids, so you’ll have a big family of grandchildren,» she told me once, and I believed her. I thought happiness had finally found us. I saw how Michael’s eyes lit up whenever Jessica was near, and I silently thanked God for giving me such a daughter-in-law.
But tragedy struck like a nightmare. An electric shock at the construction site, a fall from high scaffolding. I got the call at midnight, the foreman’s trembling voice on the phone. «Mrs. Villasenor… Michael. He had an accident. Come to the hospital immediately.»
I ran out of the house, my heart racing, barefoot on the cold streets. When I arrived, the image of Michael motionless, wrapped in white bandages, was seared into my memory.
I stayed there by his side, watching the son who had been the pillar of our family reduced to a being as fragile as a child. «I’m here, Michael,» I whispered, squeezing his hand. «Mom is here with you.»
The following months were a chain of endless days. Michael recovered slowly, but his legs were never the same. The doctor said he would have to live with wooden crutches for the rest of his life.
From a strong, always smiling and talkative man, Michael became a silent shadow. He spoke less, and his gaze was often filled with sadness. Every time I saw him leaning on his crutches, taking hesitant steps in the yard, I felt like someone was tearing my heart out.
When Michael came back from the hospital, I felt like the whole world had changed. The two-story house my son had built with so much pride, which used to be filled with laughter, was now as silent as a tomb.
I rearranged the living room, turning it into a downstairs space so Michael could move around more easily. Every time I looked at the simple bed I prepared for him, my soul ached. That room had been planned by Michael and Jessica as the future playroom for their children, but now it was just a makeshift refuge for a man fighting his own body.
The first few weeks, Jessica still pretended to be a devoted wife. She would bring him a bowl of hot soup in his room, serve his medicine carefully, and even smile when I thanked her. I wanted to believe she still loved Michael, that she was just trying to adapt to the new situation.
But with each passing day, I realized it was all a facade. Jessica’s patience ran out at a speed that astonished me.
One early morning, as the first light came through the window, I saw Michael sitting in his wheelchair, a rare sparkle in his eyes. «Mom, I want to go to the garden today,» he said with a voice full of enthusiasm. «I want to breathe some fresh air. Can you call Jessica to help me?»
I nodded, relieved to see my son finding a small reason for joy. I went to the kitchen where Jessica was making coffee, dressed as if she were getting ready to go out. «Jessica, Michael wants to go to the garden. Can you help your husband a little?» I asked, trying to keep my voice gentle.
She turned around with a frown and an annoyed face. «Mother-in-law, I have a mountain of things to do,» she replied in a cold tone. «Can’t he manage on his own for a bit?»
Without waiting for my reaction, she slammed the coffee cup on the table and stormed out, leaving me there motionless. I returned to the room and saw Michael still by the window, his gaze downcast, and his hands gripping the edges of the wheelchair.
«Mom, it doesn’t matter anymore. Forget it,» he whispered, almost inaudibly. I wanted to run after Jessica, to scream in her face, but seeing Michael, I could only push his chair toward the garden, forcing a smile to hide the pain that was breaking me inside.
Family meals, which used to be the warmest time of the day, had now become a difficult trial. I tried hard to cook the dishes Michael liked most, like chili or homemade soup, hoping to bring back a little joy.
But Jessica would sit there, eat barely a bite, and then put down her cutlery, muttering that she had no appetite. I still remember how she used to praise my stuffed bell peppers, how she would laugh, saying she wanted to learn how to cook them for Michael. Now, instead, she looked at her husband with obvious annoyance, as if sharing a table with him was a sacrifice.
«Jessica, are you feeling unwell?» I once asked, trying to keep a calm atmosphere.
She just shrugged and muttered, «No, I’m just not hungry.» But I knew well that it wasn’t the food that took away her appetite, but Michael and this whole family.
Once, as I was passing through the kitchen to get some water, I heard Jessica’s voice through the slightly open door. She was talking on the phone, her voice low but full of calculation. «Don’t worry, as long as the house is split in two, we’ll have enough capital to start over.»
I froze, my heart tight, as if someone was squeezing it. The house, the house that Michael had built with sweat and tears, the house whose key he handed me with the pride of a son. Now it was becoming prey in her plan.
I wanted to push the door open and confront her immediately, but I held back. I needed time, I needed proof, I needed to protect Michael from this cruel truth, at least for now.
Jessica started to change on the outside, too. The simple dresses from before were replaced by expensive, tight, sparkling ones. Her lipstick was brighter, her perfume so strong that I had to open the windows every time she passed by.
She went out frequently at night with excuses like a reunion with old friends or going out to «relax for a while.» I would watch her leave, her heels clacking loudly against the floor, and my heart would sink.
I remembered the days when she still held Michael’s hand, smiling radiantly as they talked about their future. Now, every time she left, I felt she was not only leaving Michael behind, but also the promises that once made me trust her.
The neighbor’s rumors started to reach me. One afternoon, while buying vegetables at the market, Mrs. Davis, the usual vendor, pulled me by the arm and whispered, «Linda, I don’t want to speak ill, but lately I’ve been seeing your daughter-in-law a lot with a strange man at the corner coffee shop. They’re very affectionate, laughing and talking like a couple.»
I forced a smile and thanked her, but inside me, the suspicion had already turned into certainty. I didn’t want to believe it, but the pieces were slowly fitting together. Jessica was no longer the girl I once considered a daughter. She had become a stranger with plans I didn’t dare to face yet.
The worst came one late night when pain was tormenting Michael. I heard him groan softly in his room and call out in a weak voice, «Jessica, can you help me massage my leg a bit? It hurts so much.»
I stood outside the door, hoping for a gesture of tenderness from my daughter-in-law, but Jessica sharply pulled Michael’s hand away, her voice sharp as a knife. «I’m not your nurse. If you need care, hire someone to look after you.»
I stood there, my hand clenched on the doorknob, feeling as if a dagger had been plunged into my chest. Michael fell silent. He didn’t answer, but I knew those words had deeply wounded him.
The house that once overflowed with laughter now sank into a thick silence. Every night I sat on the porch, listening to the crickets, my heart torn. I thought about the days when Michael was still healthy, when he would hug Jessica and say, «Mom, I found the person who will walk with me for the rest of my life.»
I had believed, I had hoped, that Jessica would bring my son happiness. But now the love in her eyes had died, leaving only contempt and calculation. Every time I looked at Michael with his wooden crutches and empty gaze, I felt I had failed, not just as a mother, but as someone who believed in love and honesty.
One gray afternoon, with the sky covered in clouds, I had just put the water pitcher on the table when I heard the door open, along with the clicking of heels on the floor. Jessica entered, but she wasn’t alone.
Beside her was Jennifer Rivers, whom I recognized immediately as an old acquaintance from my days in court, now back with a cold and distant look. Jennifer wore an impeccable black suit with a briefcase in her hand, walking with an air of power that seemed to want to dominate the entire room.
I looked at her, and my heart shuddered as I remembered the days we sat together in the law office, sharing dreams about justice. Now she was on the other side, not even greeting me, as if I were a stranger.
Jessica, in a bright blue dress, sat in a chair without deigning to look at me or Michael. The atmosphere in the kitchen became tense, as if a storm was about to break.
Jessica pushed a stack of papers towards Michael, her voice dry, without a hint of emotion. «Sign here. We’re getting a divorce. By law, this house has to be split in half.»
Those words were like a stab straight to the heart. I looked at Michael. His already pale face was now white as a sheet, without a drop of blood. His hands trembled, gripping the edge of the table, as if trying to hold on to his last hope.
I placed the glass of water on the table and tried to keep my voice calm, though inside, rage was consuming me. «On what grounds do you say this house is common property?»
Jessica lifted her chin with a face so brazen it made me want to jump out of my chair. «We are legally married. All assets acquired during the marriage are divided in half. Don’t you know the law?»
Her words were like a slap in the face, not just to me, but also to the years of sweat and tears Michael had put into building this house. I took a deep breath, contained my anger, and replied in a firm voice, «You’re wrong, Jessica. This house is Michael’s own property. It was purchased and is in his name before you two were married. Legally, you have no right to it.»
The atmosphere in the room froze. Michael lifted his head, and in his desperate eyes, a glimmer of hope appeared.
Jennifer, sitting next to Jessica, intervened with a voice as sharp as a knife. «Mrs. Villasenor, in Marriage Law in the United States, there are clauses that allow separate property to be considered marital property after several years of cohabitation. You should be careful what you say.»
I looked her straight in the eye, the one who used to sit with me in tense trials, the one who used to call me Linda with respect. Now she saw me as an enemy. I answered her, word for word, «Jennifer, I know the law better than anyone here.»
The room fell into absolute silence, and then Michael looked at me, surprised, with a spark of pride I hadn’t seen in him since he left the hospital. But Jessica wouldn’t stop. She jumped up, screaming in a shrill voice, «I don’t care who you used to be! I just want to get rid of this burden. He’s already an invalid, and I still have a future ahead of me!»
Those words fell on Michael like a hammer blow. He sat there silent, his shoulders trembling, his voice broken. «Jessica, do you really think that…» She looked away, not answering, and her silence was crueler than any word.
I felt as if my heart was being ripped out. Michael, my son, the pride of my life, was now being called a «burden» by the woman he loved. I wanted to run to Jessica, slap her, scream that she didn’t deserve my son’s love. But I just stood there, my hands gripping the edge of the chair, fighting not to break down.
Jennifer stood up and led Jessica out of the house, leaving the divorce petition on the table like a scar that could never be erased. The door slammed shut, and Michael and I were left in a deathly silence.
I started to clear the dishes, trying to do something so I wouldn’t have to face the pain that was crushing my chest, but my hands were trembling so much that I ended up breaking a porcelain bowl. The sound of the shattering glass echoed, mournful, like my heart at that moment.
Michael was still sitting motionless, his empty gaze fixed on the divorce papers. «Mom,» he murmured in a weak voice, «what did I do for her to change like this?»
I didn’t answer right away. I just sat next to him and put my hand on his shoulder. «You did nothing wrong,» I said, my voice choked. «She’s the one who’s wrong, not you.»
But deep down, I knew the truth was even more painful. Jessica didn’t just want to leave Michael; she wanted to take everything we had built. This house, which Michael had put his sweat and tears into building, had now become the target of her cold plan.
I thought of those days we walked through flooded streets, of the wedding ring I sold to support Michael’s dream, of his promise to give me a home from which no one could ever kick us out. Now all of that was in danger, not because of a stranger, but because of the very person Michael had called his wife.
That night, I sat alone on the porch, listening to the insects in the darkness. The cold wind blew, but I didn’t feel cold. I knew the real storm was just beginning.
In the days after the divorce papers were laid on the table, the air in the house became so heavy it felt like it was crushing my chest. Every corner of the house, from the wooden table where we used to laugh to the hallway where Michael walked steadily, was now just filled with icy silence.
I looked at Michael, my son, eating his dinner in silence, his hands slow as he brought small bites to his mouth. He said nothing, just lowered his head, his thin back casting a long shadow on the floor as he returned to his room with his crutches.
