“No!” whispered Doña Marta, tears burning her eyes. “My son would never allow that.” Her voice trembled so much she could barely form words. “Your son won’t even find out,” continued Bárbara, leaning closer, her face near Doña Marta’s. “I’ll tell him you’re confused, that you have memory problems, that you need special care that only a suitable place can provide. I’ll convince him it’s for your own good, and he’ll believe me because he loves me and trusts me.”
Doña Marta placed her hand on her chest, feeling her heart pounding. Seventy years of life, and she had never felt such profound terror.
“Who do you think he’ll believe? His confused old mother or his young, successful girlfriend who only wants what’s best for him?” Tears streamed freely down Doña Marta’s face. She wanted to scream, run to her son’s room and tell him everything, but fear paralyzed her. What if Bárbara was right? What if Rafael didn’t believe her? What if he really thought she was losing her mind out of jealousy? The thought of seeing disappointment and doubt in her son’s eyes was more painful than any threat.
“Understood, old lady?” Barbara said, walking away, and as if by magic, her smile returned to her face. “Smooth out your designer dress, check your reflection in the mirror… and smile. Be nice to me, because I’ll be watching your every move. Any mistake, any word out of place, you’ll regret.”
At that moment, the front door opened. Rafael came in earlier than expected. “Hi, my love! Mom!” His voice echoed cheerfully and carefree down the hallway.
Doña Marta witnessed the most terrifying transformation she had ever seen. In seconds, Bárbara changed completely: her cruel face softened, her cold eyes filled with feigned tenderness, and she ran to embrace Doña Marta with apparent affection. “Dear Mother, we were just talking about the dress for dinner. You’re going to look beautiful,” Bárbara whispered in the woman’s ear, so softly that only she heard. “Good girl, keep it up.”
Rafael entered the room, his heart swelled with joy at the sight of the two women he loved most, seemingly so close and happy together. He didn’t notice the silent tears in his mother’s eyes or how her hands trembled; Doña Marta swallowed the words she desperately needed to say.
“Is everything alright, Mom?” Rafael asked, frowning slightly.
Doña Marta looked at Bárbara, saw the icy warning in those blue eyes, and forced a smile that broke her heart. “Yes, son, everything is fine. I’m just excited about the wedding, tears of joy,” she lied. Rafael smiled with relief and hugged them both. But in that embrace, which should have been one of love and unity, Doña Marta felt the weight of the prison Bárbara had built around her: a prison of fear, threats, and enforced silence.
Worse still, the situation was about to get worse. Marina arrived at that moment with the tea that Doña Célia had prepared. She paused in the doorway and observed the scene: the embrace, Bárbara’s perfect smile, Rafael beaming. But her nurse’s eye, trained to notice subtle signs of suffering, picked up on something no one else saw: Doña Marta’s eyes shone with fear, not happiness.
One Saturday morning, Rafael had to travel to Monterrey for an emergency meeting. Doña Marta felt a pang of sadness as she watched her son pack his suitcase, knowing she would be alone with Bárbara all day. Her hands trembled as she held her coffee cup.
“Mom, are you okay? You look pale,” Rafael commented worriedly, touching her forehead.
Before Doña Marta could reply, Bárbara chimed in with her practiced smile: “Oh, my love, your mother is just tired. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of her today. We’ll have a girls’ day out, right, Mom?”
