It meant I had to get up before everyone else to cook.
It meant I had to give up my room when Camila came to visit.
It meant I had to put up with her humiliations when she was having a bad day.
And Diego…
Always on the same side.
“She’s my sister, Lucía. Don’t exaggerate.”
“My mom’s getting old, be patient with her.”
“You’re a woman, you should know how to compromise.”
Give?
Giving in became my routine.
My way of surviving.
Every time I wanted to say something, I swallowed it. Because I knew what would come next: ungrateful, troublesome, a bad woman.
So I learned.
Be quiet.
To lower your gaze.
To make myself small.
Until today.
Today was Camila’s birthday.
I got up before dawn. I cooked twelve dishes. Twelve. Because she likes to show off abundance. Because nothing can be missing when there are guests. Because everything has to be perfect… for her.
By midday, my legs weren’t responding the same way anymore. But I kept going.
When we sat down at the table, she tasted the main dish.
Sweet and sour ribs.
He chewed.
He frowned.
And she put down the cutlery with a thud.
“They turned out terribly,” she said, without lowering her voice. “They’re not even sweet.”
I felt everyone fall silent.
I forced a smile.
—Next time I’ll add more sugar.
“Next time?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Today’s my birthday, and you come out with this?”
Something in his gaze was no longer just annoyance.
It was an attack.
“Did you do it on purpose?” he asked.
I blinked.
-That?
My mother-in-law intervened, but not to defend me.
—Camila, don’t make a scene… I’m sure he didn’t do it with bad intentions.
But her gaze accused me.
Camila let out a short laugh.
—Of course. He’s always disliked me.
Then he looked directly at me.
—Don’t get confused, Lucia. Just because you put in some money doesn’t make you important.
I felt a pull in my chest.
“That money,” I began.
“Money?” he interrupted. “What you gave is nothing. I earn more than that in a month.”
And there.
Right there.
Something definitely broke.
I looked up.
She was no longer trembling.
—Then give it back to me—I said.
Silence.
Heavy.
Dense.
The whole table froze.
Camila held my gaze. Her lips curved slowly.
-Sorry?
“The two hundred thousand pesos,” I repeated. “When are you going to pay me?”
My mother-in-law let out an annoyed sigh.
—Lucía, this is not the time—
—Of course it’s time —I replied, without looking at her—. I’ve been waiting for five years.
Diego shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
—Don’t make a fuss about this…
“Problems?” I looked at him for the first time. “Is asking for what’s mine a problem?”
Camila leaned forward.
—You look really bad.
