After Twenty-Seven Years of Marriage, My Husband Asked Me for a Divorce, but One of His Demands Left Even the Lawyer Frozen

I was standing in the dining room when my husband proposed a divorce and, in the same breath, demanded that I continue caring for his sick mother for free. In front of Arturo lay a hotel receipt: dinner for two and a luxury room in Guadalajara. The corner of the paper had bent from dampness, but the name printed on it was clearly visible — Veronica.

“Who is this?” I asked.

Arturo did not even look at the receipt. He was turning a coffee spoon in his hand, and its small silver head was nervously striking the side of the cup.

“A woman with whom I want to begin a new life.”

We had spent twenty-seven years together. But at that moment he looked at me as if I were simply an old piece of furniture that could be taken out of the house.

“And me?”

“We have not been husband and wife for a long time. We simply live in the same house.”

In the next room his eighty-one-year-old mother, Carmen, was sleeping. Six years earlier, a stroke had left almost the entire right side of her body immobile. Bathing, dressing, feeding, medicines, the toilet, taking her to the doctor — I did everything.

“When I leave, who will look after her?” I asked.

Arturo frowned.

“You.”

“What do you mean, me?”

“You will come in the morning and in the evening too. Mother is used to you. Our divorce is between you and me, Lucia. What does it have to do with her?”

A dry laugh escaped me.

“Will Veronica take care of her?”

“She works. Besides, she told me from the beginning that she could not care for an old woman.”

Then I remembered how I had left my job. I had been an assistant accountant for almost twenty years. Arturo had told me it would take only six months.

“Until I arrange everything.”

Six months became six years. Instead of my desk I had boxes of medicines, instead of a salary — pharmacy receipts, and instead of nighttime sleep I counted Carmen’s breathing.

Once, when Carmen had a fever for three days, I asked Arturo for help.

“I am at work tomorrow,” he told me. “You will be able to sleep during the day too.”

I never forgot those words.

That evening, although my marriage was collapsing before my eyes, I still arranged the eleven o’clock medicines. I wrote Carmen’s blood pressure in the dark-green-covered notebook and entered her room.

She was awake.

“I heard everything,” she told me.

“Carmen, I…”

“Divorce my son.”

The air caught in my throat.

“But you will be left alone.”

Carmen extended her left hand to me. On her wrist was a white medical bracelet, on which her name had slightly faded.

“I am sick, Lucia. I am not the owner of your life. Arturo wants a new woman and from you he wants only the part that is convenient for him.”

“I am afraid that I will abandon you.”

“I am more afraid that because of me you will lose yourself.”

That night we cried together. For the first time not as daughter-in-law and mother-in-law, but as two women who had finally seen the truth hidden in one house.

In the morning I called the social worker, Laura Mendes. Then I contacted a lawyer. Two days later Laura was sitting in our kitchen. On the table lay Carmen’s medicines, open brochures, and my old work pass.

“Mrs. Carmen, what do you want?” she asked.

Carmen breathed for a long time.

“To move into a care home for the elderly.”

I looked at her.

“You always refused, didn’t you?”

“Before, I was afraid of leaving the house. Now I am more afraid that Lucia will lose her life again because I am afraid.”

In the evening Arturo saw the brochures spread out on the table.

“All this is expensive. You will eat up Mother’s savings.”

“Who will look after her here?” I asked.

He looked directly at me.

“You.”

That night I was looking for documents for the lawyer and turned on an old tablet that had been left in Arturo’s office. A message appeared on the screen. Veronica was asking whether I would really continue caring for Carmen after the divorce. My fingers froze. Then Arturo’s reply appeared, and before reading it I reached toward the screen…

I touched the screen and opened the message. Veronica wrote: “Are you sure Lucia will still take care of your mother?” Arturo’s reply appeared immediately: “Of course. She loves my mother very much. This way we will not have to pay money to an institution and her savings will remain untouched.”

Only the sound of the refrigerator motor could be heard in the room. The tablet trembled in my hand.

“Is that how you saw me?” I said quietly.

I heard Carmen’s voice behind me.

“What did you see?”

I turned the screen toward her. She read for a long time, then lowered her eyes.

“He wanted to preserve my money.”

“Maybe he is simply afraid that you will run out of money.”

Carmen smiled bitterly.

“For six years you paid for everything for me for free. Now my money will be used for my care.”

The next morning Laura took us to the bank. Carmen officially regained access to the accounts and gave the lawyer power of attorney. Arturo, however, was still certain that nothing would change.

On the day of signing the divorce papers, he met me in the kitchen. I was making Carmen’s soup when he smiled with satisfaction.

“I knew you would not abandon Mother. You will come tomorrow too, won’t you?”

I did not answer. Three days remained until Carmen’s move.

But that evening the lawyer called me and said that he had discovered something strange in the transfers from Carmen’s accounts over the last six years. It turned out the money had not been used only for medicines and care…

The lawyer’s voice sounded quiet but stern on the telephone.

“Lucia, money was leaving Carmen’s accounts every month on the same day. The recipient is the same.”

“A hospital?”

“No. Arturo’s personal credit card.”

The telephone remained in my hand. I stood by the kitchen window, while raindrops fell one after another against the glass. Carmen sat in the living room listening to the old radio.

“How much?” I asked.

“Almost one hundred and forty thousand pesos in six years. The records indicate it as care expenses, but the purchases were made in restaurants, at a golf club, and in hotels.”

Carmen saw my face.

“What happened?”

I told her everything.

Laura came that same evening. She spread the documents on the table, attached a small yellow note to each page, and put a pen in front of Carmen.

“You must decide whether you want an official investigation.”

Carmen looked at the pen.

“Is this my money?”

“Yes.”

“Then I want to know where it went.”

The next day we met Arturo at the bank. Cold air from the air conditioner blew through the room, while a large clock on the wall clicked loudly every second. Arturo entered confidently, as if he still controlled everything.

“Mother, Lucia is frightening you too much. Every family uses that money.”

For the first time Carmen did not look away.

“In which family do they spend a sick woman’s money on golf?”

Arturo’s face changed.

“I was doing everything for you.”

“For six years you did not wash her even once,” I told him. “But you used my signature every month.”

The lawyer opened the folder.

“Here are the bank statements, the places of purchase, and your digital correspondence.”

Arturo looked at me.

“You were rummaging through the tablet?”

“No. You left it switched on yourself.”

The lawyer took out a second sheet.

“And this is Carmen’s new financial power of attorney. From this moment, only she and the representative appointed by her will have access to her accounts.”

Arturo grabbed the chair.

“Mother, are you really going against your own son?”

Carmen’s voice was calm.

“I am going to protect myself.”

Silence fell over the room. For the first time I saw Arturo’s hands trembling.

“Lucia, you will still help, won’t you?” he said to me. “Despite all this, Carmen loves you.”

“I will help Carmen as much as I decide. But I will no longer work for you.”

That same day Carmen reserved a place at a care center for the elderly. She had a small room, with a window facing the garden and an assistance button installed beside the bed.

Arturo tried to resist until the last minute.

“It is better to stay in this house.”

Carmen replied:

“Better for you. Not for me.”

The night before the move she took my hand.

“Lucia, please do not look back.”

“You will be alone.”

“No. This time I will have beside me people whom I pay for this. And you must regain your life.”

The next morning, while we were putting her into the car, Arturo’s telephone rang. He looked at the screen and turned pale.

“Who is it?” I asked.

He did not answer me.

The lawyer leaned toward me.

“Lucia, this is still not the worst news. A message has just arrived on Arturo’s phone from the court. Someone has officially requested the freezing of the financial records for the last six years…”

But Arturo still did not know who was behind this request…