To avoid seeing my father-in-law, my husband and I lent my mother-in-law 2 million pesos so she’d agree to let us move out on our own. But the day we asked her for the money back to buy a house, she turned her back on us.
Since I didn’t want to see my father-in-law frequently, my husband and I agreed to give my mother-in-law 2 million pesos so she could allow us to live apart.
From the day I got married, I had to share the house with my in-laws. The conflicts were endless, especially with my father-in-law, an authoritarian man with a harsh temper and a venomous tongue, who criticized me for every little thing.
Many nights I cried myself to the point of exhaustion, wishing we had our own space.
But he never agreed: he insisted that his son should stay behind to “take care of his parents.”
Finally, with a heavy heart, we gave my mother-in-law the two million, on the condition that she convince her husband. She accepted the money, smiling from ear to ear, nodding her head in agreement. I breathed a sigh of relief, believing I had finally escaped that hell.
But when we managed to save a little more and asked my mother-in-law to return that money to buy a small apartment in Mexico City, she calmly crossed her arms in the middle of the living room and, with a mocking grimace, said:
“What money? I never received anything. This house was built by my son, the land belongs to his father… you have no right to claim it.”
I froze, my blood boiling in my veins. But instead of crying or screaming, I just smiled.
Because what she didn’t know was that, from the day we handed over that money, I had prepared a notarial deed, with signatures and a video that clearly showed how she kept the wad of bills in her safe.
A few days later, when she was already planning to use the money to buy land in her eldest son’s name, the lawyer and the notary arrived at the house, presenting all the evidence. The relatives who were present murmured in surprise; she turned pale, stammering, unable to defend herself.
I looked at her calmly and uttered only one sentence:
“What money are you saying isn’t mine? Now everyone knows, Mom.”
Unable to deny it any longer, my mother-in-law slumped into her chair, while I breathed a sigh of relief. For the first time in so many years, I felt I had won a fair game.
I left that house, and the afternoon wind caressed my face, giving me a feeling of freedom. After enduring so much, I could finally walk upright, without feeling humiliated.
That night, my husband took my hand, his eyes moist:
“Forgive me for having made you endure so many injustices. But thanks to you, I understood that we can’t continue living under these family chains.”
I smiled tenderly, tears rolling down my cheeks. We had been through so much pain, and what awaited us now was a new beginning.
A month later, with the money we’d recovered and our savings, we reserved a small apartment in the city center. It wasn’t luxurious, but it was our home, where I could organize every corner to my liking, where when I woke up I would no longer have to hear venomous reproaches from the living room.
On moving day, I invited my parents and some relatives. Everyone congratulated us, and my mother hugged me tightly, saying with a broken voice:
“My daughter is now a grown woman. From now on, live for yourself, don’t let anyone trample on your dignity.”
Those words were like a liberation. I looked at my husband, and he nodded firmly. I knew then that, although the future still held storms, this time I had truly escaped the shadow of those years of humiliation.
And I whispered to myself:
“The game is over. And the winner… is me.”
