Anna and Marco had been married for three years. To everyone else, they seemed like the perfect couple. Marco was kind, hardworking, and loving. But there was something that deeply troubled Anna: a “strange” habit of her husband’s.
Every night, around midnight or one in the morning, Marco would carefully get up. He would slowly release Anna from her embrace and leave the room. He would walk to the room of his mother, Doña Corazón, who lived with them. And he wouldn’t return until dawn.
The first year, Anna tried to understand.
“My mom has insomnia,” Marco would tell her. “She needs company.”
But in the second year, doubts began to grow.
Was he too attached to his mother? A “mama’s boy”?
By the third year, Anna was consumed by jealousy and mistrust. She felt that Marco loved his mother more than her, as if there were a third person in their marriage.
“Why are you sleeping there?” she confronted him one night. “I’m your wife! You should be with me. What are you doing locked up in there all night? Talking until dawn?”
—Anna, please understand— Marco replied, exhausted, with deep dark circles under his eyes. —My mom is sick. She needs me.
—Sick? I see her fine in the mornings. She eats, watches TV… That sounds like an excuse because you don’t want to sleep with me!
Marco didn’t answer. He lowered his head and left the room in silence.
Blinded by rage and suspicion, Anna made a decision: to follow him. She needed to know the truth.
Midnight arrived.
As always, Marco got up slowly. He thought Anna was asleep, but she was awake, watching in the darkness.
He left the room.
Anna waited five minutes and followed him, walking barefoot so as not to make any noise.
He stopped in front of Doña Corazón’s bedroom door. It was ajar.
Anna peeked out.
I was ready to scream. Ready to confront them both.
But what he saw stopped his heart.
Inside the room, barely illuminated by a dim lamp, Doña Corazón—who by day seemed calm and normal—was gently tied to the bed with cloths. She was struggling desperately. Her eyes were wild, her body drenched in sweat, foam escaping her mouth.
“Damn it! Get away from me! No! Don’t kill my son!” she screamed in a hoarse, weak voice.
Marco held her tightly to prevent her from hurting herself. His arms were covered in bites, scratches, and bruises.
—Shhh… Mom, I’m here. It’s Marco. You’re safe —he whispered as he stroked her back.
“No! You’re not Marco! Marco is dead! They killed him!” she screamed, sinking her teeth into her son’s shoulder.
Marco closed his eyes in pain, but he didn’t let go of her. He wasn’t angry.
Anna clearly saw the tears running down her husband’s face as he endured the suffering caused by his own mother.
Minutes later, Doña Corazón vomited on Marco’s clothes. The strong, acidic smell reached the door. But instead of moving away, Marco took a rag and carefully wiped his mother’s face… then his own clothes. Afterward, he changed the old woman’s diaper.
Anna’s legs trembled. She held onto the door frame.
After almost an hour, Doña Corazón calmed down. She entered a brief moment of lucidity.
“M-Marco?” she asked in a weak voice.
—Yes, Mom. It’s me.
She touched her son’s face and saw the wounds.
“Son… did I hurt you again? Forgive me… I didn’t mean to…” she cried. “Go away. Go back to Anna. Poor thing, you’re neglecting her.”
Marco shook his head as he adjusted the blanket.
“No, Mom. I’m staying here. I don’t want Anna to see you like this. I don’t want her to be scared or have to clean all this up. I’m your son, I have to deal with this. Let her sleep peacefully.”
—But son… you’re very tired…
—I can handle this, Mom. I love you both. I’m going to protect you. Anna by day… and you by night.
There, Anna broke down.
He opened the door completely and went inside.
“Anna?” Marco jumped and tried to cover the stains on his clothes. “What are you doing here? Go back to the room… it smells bad in here…”
Anna said nothing. She approached, knelt down, and hugged her husband’s waist, bursting into tears.
“I’m sorry…” she sobbed. “Forgive me, Marco… I thought badly of you… and you were carrying everything alone…”
Anna looked at Doña Corazón, who was now looking at her with shame.
“Mom…” Anna said, taking her hand. “Why didn’t you tell me? You have dementia and sundowning, don’t you?” (a condition that worsens at night).
“We didn’t mean to bother you, child,” the old woman replied. “We know you work hard. I didn’t want to be a burden.”
“It isn’t,” Anna said firmly.
She got up, brought hot water and a towel. She herself cleaned the remaining dirt from Marco’s arms and her mother-in-law’s face.
“Marco,” she said as she cleaned him up. “Three years carrying this burden alone. From today on, there are two of us. I’m your wife. Through thick and thin… and that includes taking care of Mom.”
—But Anna…
—No buts. We’ll take turns, or we’ll find a nurse. But you’re never going to do it alone again.
Marco hugged her. For the first time in years, he felt relief. The weight he had carried for so long felt lighter.
From then on, Doña Corazón’s condition was no longer a secret. They worked together. And Anna understood that love isn’t measured only in sweet moments, but in the ability to support each other through life’s darkest and most difficult times.
There was no more jealousy.
Only respect… and a deeper love for a man capable of sacrificing his rest and enduring pain in order to protect the women he loves.
THE END.