Ana put her hand to her forehead, trying to collect her thoughts. It wasn’t just Aunt Carmen’s anger that troubled her, but also the painful memories of everything she had left behind in Madrid. She desperately wanted to build a new life in Barcelona, ​​free from the shadows of the past, but it seemed her family had no intention of granting her any peace.

The phone vibrated incessantly, ring after ring, like a drop of water falling and wearing away at stone, fraying her already frayed nerves. At one point, she decided she wouldn’t answer anymore. She got out of bed, drew the curtains, and sat down at her desk, where the sketches for a new architectural project awaited her, ready to be finished. She tried to concentrate, but every ring of her phone broke the thread of her thoughts.

Suddenly a new message arrived. But it wasn’t from Carmen. It was from her neighbor in Madrid, a kind elderly woman whom Ana had often helped with her shopping. The text was brief: “A woman and a man are banging on the door of your old apartment and making a scene. I’ve called the police.”

Ana’s heart sank. She knew how stubborn her aunt could be, but to go to such extremes was unbelievable. And yet, a bitter smile touched her lips: perhaps it was the only way Carmen would finally understand that she was no longer a part of her life.

That same afternoon, Ana received an official call from the Madrid police. A courteous officer explained the situation: her relatives had tried to force their way in, convinced she was hiding inside. “Ma’am, I would recommend you speak directly with them; otherwise, they will continue to insist. They said they would even travel to Barcelona if necessary.”

That news worried her even more. The idea that her aunt might appear at the door of her small studio in Barcelona terrified her. She knew that this time she wouldn’t be able to get away with simple excuses. She had to make a decision.

That evening, Ana poured herself a glass of wine and opened her laptop. She began writing a long email, addressed not only to her aunt but to the entire family. She wrote candidly about her need for freedom, the constant pressure to meet expectations she couldn’t fulfill, and her desire to build her future without reproach. Every word felt like a release.

When he finished, he took a deep breath and pressed “Send”.

The next day, the phone was silent for the first time in a long time. No calls, no messages. Just silence. Ana felt relieved, but also a slight unease. Was this silence a sign of an even bigger storm? Or had her family finally understood that she should be allowed to live her life her way?

She closed her eyes and, for the first time in a long time, fell asleep without fear.