Clara rested her head on the table. She had no tears left, only a deep weariness. She dialed her friend Lucia’s number:
“I can’t take it anymore,” she confessed. “For Javier, it’s normal that I have to guarantee his mother ‘a peaceful old age.’”
“Clara, seven years is too long,” Lucia replied firmly. “If you don’t set limits now, you never will.”
Clara remained silent. She had always hoped Javier would react, that he would understand. But why would he, when everything was so comfortable for him?
Meanwhile, in Barcelona , in Doña Carmen’s living room, Javier was recounting what had happened.
“I warned you, son,” she said coldly. “That woman isn’t right for you. She deceived you.”
“Mom, don’t exaggerate,” Javier murmured wearily.
“A lie is a lie. And tell me, what about the holidays?” he asked, frowning.
– Maybe next month…
“Next month?! It won’t be season anymore!” Carmen protested. “The doctor clearly said I need sea air for my joints.”
The weight of guilt fell on Javier once more. His mother had raised him alone. He had always felt he owed her money.
“I’ll find a solution,” he promised. “Perhaps a loan…”
“A loan?!” Carmen exclaimed in alarm. “Better sell the car. It’s old anyway.”
Meanwhile, Clara turned on her laptop. Orders for her jewelry were growing slowly, but they were growing. For the first time in years, she felt she could stand on her own two feet, without depending on Javier or her mother-in-law.
The night was long. Javier didn’t return. Clara understood that the battle had only just begun. Her husband was torn between two worlds—and until then, he had always chosen the same one.
The next morning, Lucia appeared at his door with determination:
Clara, you have talent. If you want, I’ll invest in your project. Open a workshop, really go for it. You deserve a life of your own, not the life another woman has decided for you.
Clara’s eyes shone with a new sparkle. Perhaps she was losing a man who had never truly valued her, but she was gaining something infinitely more precious: freedom.
And freedom, however bitter, was worth more than any “filial obligation”.
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