My Former Mother-in-Law Demanded a Debt in My Name, but When I Told the Truth, Mauricio’s Face Turned Pale

At the moment when my former mother-in-law placed the loan agreement for two hundred eighty thousand pesos on the table, I realized that, for them, the divorce had never existed.

It was Saturday morning, in Guadalajara, in my apartment. Mauricio had come to take two boxes. Three months had passed since signing the divorce, but his clothes and old computer were still lying in my closet. I was holding a wet towel by the kitchen sink when his phone rang.

The screen said: “Mom.”

Mauricio answered, and his voice changed immediately.

“Yes, Mom… yes, I’m with Laura… no, I haven’t told her yet… okay, we’ll come.”

He hung up and did not look me in the eyes.

“My mother wants us to go to her. She says it’s something important, something concerning Ramiro.”

“If it’s about money, I’m not going.”

“I don’t think it is.”

I slowly folded the towel. Small yellow fish were embroidered on that same fabric. My mother-in-law had given it to me for my birthday and had told me then that, in a family, every wound should be dried with patience. Now those words were stuck in my throat.

“Four months ago I paid half of your mother’s seventieth-birthday celebration,” I told him. “I hid the divorce because you asked me to, so that she would not hear the news unexpectedly. But my silence does not mean that I am still your wife.”

Mauricio swallowed.

“Just this once, Laura.”

I went because he was clearly nervous. On the way he checked his phone every minute, and when I asked whom he was writing to, he hid the screen as if it had been burned.

In his mother’s living room lay marriage-agency brochures, hotel photographs, and airplane offers. Ramiro, Mauricio’s older brother, was stretched out on the sofa. A forty-six-year-old man in sweatpants and slippers, with a coffee cup in his hand, was again talking about starting his “big business.”

Teresa tapped the table with her fingernail.

“At last, Ramiro is going to get married.”

“Get married?” I asked.

“He will go to Lima. The agency will introduce him to respectable women. The local ones only care how much you earn and whether you have a house.”

I looked at Ramiro.

“And who will pay for all this?”

He put the cup on the table. The ceramic cracked loudly.

Teresa answered:

“You.”

On the sheet lying on the table it said: registration, travel, hotel, documents, gifts, and service fee. Total — two hundred eighty thousand pesos.

“I won’t take it,” I said.

“You haven’t even listened yet,” Mauricio blurted out.

“I’ve listened. Your brother has no money.”

Teresa leaned forward.

“You have a good job, a good credit history, and your own apartment. The bank will give it to you easily. You will take the loan, Ramiro will pay little by little, and we will all be happy.”

I laughed, but there was no warmth in the laughter.

“You want me to finance the marriage of a four-hundred-and-six-year-old man who cannot keep a job?”

“Don’t insult me!” Ramiro shouted.

“Two years ago I gave you money for a truck. You sold it and invested it in cryptocurrency. Before that, you lost the rent on a phone-accessories store. You have not returned a single peso.”

“Family helps one another,” Teresa said.

Mauricio lowered his head.

At that moment I realized that they had planned all this in advance.

“Did you know that we were coming to ask me for this?” I asked him.

“They just wanted to talk.”

“Your mother said that you have already exhausted all your lines of credit. Is that true?”

Silence fell over the room. The ticking of the wall clock suddenly became very loud.

“I have a car loan, one card… it’s normal,” he muttered.

“During the divorce you promised me that you had no other debt.”

Teresa widened her eyes.

“Divorce? What divorce?”

Mauricio rose slightly.

“Mom, Laura is angry.”

I placed my bag on my knees.

“I’m not angry. I’m simply tired of acting.”

Teresa pointed a finger at me.

“What does that mean?”

I looked at Mauricio.

“It means that I stopped being your daughter-in-law three months ago. Because when your son spent a romantic weekend with a colleague while telling me, ‘I’m in Monterrey on business,’…”

The brochure slipped from Teresa’s hand. Mauricio turned pale.

“Laura, we agreed that…”

“We agreed that I would stay silent until you took your things and fulfilled the divorce terms. We did not agree that your family would use my name for loans.”

Teresa put a hand to her chest.

“My son would not do that.”

“Then ask him about Tapalpa.”

Mauricio closed his eyes. And I remembered exactly the day when I discovered the truth, and now I reached toward the folder of documents hidden in my bag…

Mauricio grabbed me by the wrist.

“Not here, Laura.”

“Right here, Mauricio. Here they have to find out.”

Teresa stood up from the chair. Her earring was trembling.

“What happened in Tapalpa?”

“Ask your son.”

Ramiro chuckled, but the laughter immediately disappeared when I placed the folder on the table.

“What is that?” he asked.

“Not yet. First Mauricio has to speak.”

Mauricio looked toward the door.

“Laura, don’t destroy everything.”

“I destroyed nothing. You are already living in ruins, and now you want to put a roof over them with my salary.”

Teresa looked at her son.

“Who was that woman?”

Mauricio was silent.

His phone attracted attention again. An unknown number appeared on the screen, but he did not answer the call.

“Answer it,” I told him.

“It’s not necessary.”

“Then I’ll answer it.”

I reached toward the phone. Mauricio stepped back.

That movement said everything.

I opened the folder. Inside lay one sheet of paper, and at the sight of it his face emptied completely.

“This is only the beginning,” I said quietly.

Teresa leaned toward me.

“Laura, what did you do?”

“What you should have done three months ago.”

The doorbell rang. Mauricio suddenly put his phone in his pocket.

Someone rang a second time behind the door and said…

“Mrs. Laura, I have come from the bank. I have an official notice concerning an application submitted in your name.”

Mauricio took a step back. Teresa looked at the door, then at her son.

“What application is he talking about?”

I opened the door. A bank representative stood outside, holding a stamped folder. The corners of his papers had become wet from the rain.

“Are you Laura Mendez?”

“Yes.”

“Here are copies of two applications. Both were submitted with copies of your identity card and salary certificates. The applications were submitted after the divorce.”

Teresa looked at her son.

“Mauricio, tell me that this was not done by you.”

Mauricio licked his lips.

“I just… temporarily needed money.”

“In my name?” I asked.

“I was going to return it before you found out.”

Ramiro raised his hands.

“I have nothing to do with this.”

“You sat here and waited for me to take a loan of two hundred eighty thousand pesos,” I told him. “That is involvement too.”

The bank representative took out the second sheet.

“The contact email is connected to Mr. Mauricio’s number. The applications were rejected, but because of the documents used, the bank officially recorded the incident.”

Teresa’s face turned pale.

“You are no longer my daughter-in-law, but you still dared to do this?”

Mauricio raised his head.

“Mom, I had no other way. Debts accumulated. If I lost my job, I couldn’t pay Laura what I owe her under the divorce either.”

“So you intended to cover your old debts with my documents?” I asked.

He could not answer.

At that moment his phone received a call. The screen said “Veronica.” Mauricio looked at the call and froze.

Teresa saw the phone.

“Who is Veronica?”

Mauricio ended the call.

Exactly then the door opened. A young woman stood on the threshold, holding two suitcases. The buttons of her red coat were fastened incorrectly, as if she had put it on while fleeing the house.

“Mauricio, why aren’t you answering me?” she said. “You told me that this apartment was yours and that we would live here.”

Teresa’s mouth fell open.

“Who are you?”

The woman looked around the room.

“Veronica. Mauricio’s fiancée.”

The suitcase wheel hit the threshold and fell over with a noise.

Mauricio looked toward me.

“Laura, please…”

“Now ask her. Tell her that the apartment was mine. Tell her that you have no savings either and that you have not fulfilled the divorce terms.”

Veronica slowly let go of his hand.

“You told me everything was settled.”

“It would have been settled.”

“And these applications?”

Her voice was already trembling.

I closed the folder.

“You do not yet know the worst. Your company’s accounting department has already begun checking the trips that both of you recorded as business expenses. I received the notice this morning because my address was also written on one of the documents.”

Mauricio looked at me.

“You did this?”

“No. I simply could no longer protect you from your lies.”

It was still raining outside. Veronica grabbed her suitcase, while Mauricio lifted the phone to his ear.

“Call a lawyer,” he said.

This time the lawyer answered, and the first words everyone in the room heard were: “Mauricio, I can no longer defend you in this case…”