“Lucia,” Valeria suddenly interjected, just as the maid was about to pour Isabel wine from a fancy bottle. “Give the lady the house wine, please, the one we drink during the week. I doubt she’ll notice the difference, and there’s no reason to waste the reserve. Her palate is more traditional.” Alejandro, who was checking a message on his phone, didn’t pay attention to the comment, but Lucia and Isabel did. It was a direct humiliation, a slap of classism disguised as domestic efficiency.
Lucia, with an almost imperceptible tension in her jaw, nodded and went to fetch the other bottle. Isabel felt her cheeks burn, but kept her eyes fixed on her empty plate. “Well, family, we need to talk about the wedding,” Alejandro said, putting his phone away. “I’ve been looking at flower catalogs. What do you think, Mom? Have you liked the flowers?” Isabel saw a small opportunity to participate, to be herself. “Well, my son, I’ve always liked daisies.”
They’re simple flowers, but so cheerful. In the patio of our little house, we had a garden full of them. Valeria let out a clear, condescending little laugh. “Oh, how sweet, Mother-in-law. Daisies, what a quaint memory, aren’t they, my love? For our wedding, we’re thinking of something more sophisticated. Orchids brought from Thailand, perhaps some black tulips from Holland, something that shows our level, you understand? Daisies are pretty, but for a christening in a small town.” Alejandro, wanting to mediate, tried again. “Well, but tell Vale a story from when he was a child, Mom, so he can get to know you better.”
Tell him about the time I fell out of the guava tree. Isabel smiled, a genuine memory at last. “Oh, you were about eight years old that time, and you climbed all the way to the top branch. They had a guava tree at their house,” Valeria interrupted, her curiosity sounding more like an interrogation. “Yes, a really big one in the backyard.” “Oh, so they had a yard. I thought their house was smaller. The roof was made of corrugated metal or tile. I heard that in those neighborhoods the sun really heats the corrugated metal.” Each question was an excavation into her humble past, designed to expose it, to highlight it with a fluorescent marker of poverty in front of her son.
“It was from Teja,” Isabel replied curtly. Dinner continued in the same vein. Every attempt by Alejandro to include his mother was sabotaged by Valeria with an innocent question or a sophisticated comment that left Isabel feeling out of place. The tension was so thick you could cut it with silver knives. Then the main course arrived: fish in a red chili sauce. “This is my favorite dish!” Alejandro exclaimed. “Mom, you have to try it, but be careful, it’s fiery hot!”
“Your mom doesn’t mind, does she, Mother-in-law? You two are so brave,” Valeria said, serving Isabel a generous portion and making sure it had an excessive amount of sauce. Not wanting to offend, Isabel took a bite. The spiciness was an explosion of liquid fire in her mouth. She felt like she was choking, like she couldn’t get enough air. Her eyes filled with tears, and she frantically searched for her glass of water. It was at that precise moment that Valeria, laughing at something Alejandro had said, stretched out her arm and, with the grace of a dancer, slid Isabel’s glass just a few centimeters away, just enough so that her fingers couldn’t reach it.
The gesture was so subtle that Alejandro didn’t notice a thing, but Lucia, who was serving more bread, saw it. She saw the intention, the calculated malice. Her face hardened like stone. Isabel gasped, her hand clumsily tapping the tablecloth. Panic was beginning to take hold of her. “Lucia, water for the lady. Quickly,” Valeria ordered, feigning sudden alarm. “Oh, Mother-in-law, my goodness, how sensitive I am. I told Alejandro this was very spicy.” Lucia hurried to fill the glass and place it in Isabel’s hands.
Isabel drank desperately. The cool water was heavenly relief to her burning throat. When she could finally catch her breath, she looked up and saw Valeria staring at her. In her eyes there was no worry, only a spark of victory. The pure pleasure of having tortured and humiliated her in front of everyone and gotten away with it. Later, when Alejandro got up to take a business call in his office, Isabel was left alone with Valeria in the vast room. The silence was heavy, thick with the undeclared battle that had just been fought.
“See how easy everything is when you cooperate, Mother-in-law?” Valeria said, filing one of her nails indifferently. “You smile, nod, eat what they serve you, and keep quiet. That way, everyone is happy and no one gets hurt. It’s a very simple role for you. I suggest you learn it well and get used to your new place in this family. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to see what my fiancé needs.” Valeria got up and left, leaving Isabel alone on the brocade sofa, the taste of chili and humiliation still lingering in her mouth.
And with a chilling certainty in her heart. This wasn’t dinner. It had been the first of many battles, and she was losing them all. The next morning, sunlight streamed through the mansion’s windows, painting golden patterns on the Persian carpets. It was a scene of peace and opulence that contrasted sharply with the storm brewing inside Isabel. Breakfast was a meticulously rehearsed performance. Alejandro, brimming with energy, spoke about his schedule for the day while Valeria served him coffee and spread jam on his bread, playing the part of the perfect bride-to-be.
He gave Isabel sweet smiles and asked if she had slept well, questions whose answers she couldn’t care less about. “Well, my loves, I have to go. I have a meeting with some Japanese investors that could change the future of the company,” Alejandro said, standing up and adjusting his tie. He approached Valeria and gave her a long, deep kiss. Then he took out his wallet. “Here, my queen,” he said, handing her a platinum-colored credit card.
“So you can go shopping with your friends and start looking at things for decorating the house. Buy whatever you want, there’s no limit. You deserve it for making me so happy.” Valeria’s eyes shone with a greed she cleverly disguised as gratitude. “Oh, my dear, you shouldn’t have bothered, but thank you. I’ll use it wisely.” Then Alejandro approached his mother and gave her a strong, genuine hug. “Be good, Mom. Rest, read a book, take a walk in the garden.”
This is your home too, I want you to enjoy it. I love you very much. And I love you too, my son, I wish you all the best, Isabel replied, clinging to that hug like a shipwrecked sailor to a plank. Alejandro left. The sound of the front door closing echoed in the silence, and with that sound, the spell was broken. Valeria stood in the middle of the dining room, credit card in hand. The smile vanished from her face as if it had never been there.
Isabel, picking up her plate to take it to the kitchen, felt a chill run down her spine. She knew what was coming. Valeria didn’t follow her immediately. Instead, she took out her cell phone and dialed a number, speaking loudly enough for Isabel to hear perfectly from the kitchen doorway. “Brenda, friend, you won’t believe this. Alejandro just gave me a credit card with no limit.” “Yes, no limit.” “No, of course not. I need it to buy a few things for the house and maybe a new purse, the one we saw at the boutique.”
Hey, shall we meet for lunch? I need a break from this house. Yeah, it’s such a drag having to entertain the mummy all day. Yes, her mom. Oh, she’s a lost cause, my friend. But hey, it’s all for the sake of the future, right? I’ll see you at one. Kisses. Every word was a poisoned dart. Mummy. Secure the future. Isabel entered the kitchen, her heart pounding in her chest. She went straight to her little corner, her sanctuary, seeking the normalcy of her instant coffee and cookies.
She needed that little ritual to anchor herself, to remember who she was. Valeria entered the kitchen. Seconds later, moving with predatory arrogance, she leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “You know, Isabel,” she said, her voice now a whip. “I’ve decided I’m not even going to call you mother-in-law anymore. It’s a title of respect and affection, and you and I have neither. You haven’t earned that right for yourself.”
I’m the lady of the house, and you’re the permanent guest. She approached the counter where Isabel was preparing her coffee. She looked at the chipped cup, the cheap glass jar. I truly don’t understand how Alejandro managed to escape such poverty. This is what this garbage is for. She asked, pointing at the coffee. Before Isabel could react, Valeria grabbed the coffee jar, opened it, and with an expression of profound disgust, emptied the entire contents onto the freshly polished white marble floor.
The dark granules scattered like dirty dirt. “This smells like poverty, like conformity,” she said as she walked to the trash can and dropped the empty glass jar, which made a hollow, sad sound. “I hate conformity, and I hate filth.” Isabel stared at her, horrified. “But why are you doing this?” “It was my coffee, it was trash!” Valeria shouted, her face contorted with rage. “And I don’t want trash in my house, I don’t want it on my countertops, I don’t want it in my cupboards, and if I could, I wouldn’t want it breathing my air.”
Lucia, drawn by the shout, appeared in the kitchen doorway, pale. Valeria saw her. “You,” she snapped. “Clean up this mess, and then you’ll have to disinfect the whole kitchen. Who knows what kind of bacteria this woman brings from her neighborhood?” Then she turned to Isabel, her voice dropping to a dangerous hiss. “I’m going to give her a list of new rules, since it seems she didn’t quite grasp the ones last night. Rule number one.”
You are forbidden to sit on the sofas in the main living room. They are Italian silk, and I don’t want them to stink. Rule number two: you are forbidden to speak to my friends if they come to visit. You will lock yourself in your room and will not come out until I tell you to. Rule number three: the swimming pool is for me and my guests, not for you. Rule number four, and the most important: you are forbidden to speak to me unless I speak to you first.
Nobody cares about her opinions, her memories, or her stories. Was I clear enough, or do you need me to spell it out for you? Isabel, humiliated in front of Lucia, could only nod, tears of rage and helplessness burning her eyes. Valeria smiled contentedly. Perfect, I’m going shopping. Lucia, make sure the guest eats in the servants’ quarters. Today there’s lentils for the staff. Enjoy. Valeria left, leaving behind a heavy silence and a mess on the floor.
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