When she woke up, her eyes red and swollen from crying, I accused her of incompetence.
Blushing, I pointed to the scrape on my shoulder and demanded she take responsibility.
The excuse was clumsy, but she nodded anyway.
I was overjoyed.
Completely unaware of the arduous path I had chosen for myself.
When I returned to the Petersen house, Gabriela’s mother’s voice carried from the living room.
“Young people today are so lucky! In our time, what son-in-law would dare give his mother-in-law trouble?”
“Did you see how angry he got? His eyes turned red just because I asked him to bring me a basin to wash my feet?”
“I really regret it. If he hadn’t clung so hard to his money, Gabriela would never have chosen such a sickly man.”
“Depression, mental illness—it’s all just an excuse for not being able to have children.”
Her voice echoed through the room. “Who would believe otherwise…?”
I pushed open the door.
The room fell silent.
Gabriela's mother, who had been sitting on the sofa eating sunflower seeds, stood up first, forcing a smile. "Oh, you are finally back.”
“Have you eaten? There's some leftover food from lunch. Shall I heat it up?"