I’m Ana, 25 years old, and I married Carlos right after finishing university. We met there, and our love was pure and uncomplicated. Carlos is kind and hard-working, but his mother, DoNa Teresa, is notorious in the neighborhood for being harsh and unforgiving.
The first time she brought me to meet her, she said:
– “A girl from a poor village… do you really think she can support this family?”
I smiled, thinking that if I was obedient and worked hard enough, one day she would accept me. But I was wrong. From the first day as her daughter-in-law, she criticized everything I did and never gave me a word of praise.
The reason she never accepted me was clear: she had always planned for Carlos to marry a rich girl from the area, and I had ruined her “plans.”
When there were guests, she would subtly say:
– “Nowadays, when you marry, you have to choose someone with money; what good is someone with nothing?”
Carlos heard this but rarely defended me. He would just stay quiet or change the subject. I bit back my tears and told myself I had to endure it all for his sake.
One day, Carlos had to go on a week-long business trip. I stayed home, taking care of the family store and doing housework. That day, I accidentally knocked over a bottle of oil, spilling it all over the floor. When DoNa Teresa saw it, she erupted, calling me clumsy and accusing me of ruining everything.
But it didn’t stop there. She suddenly dragged me into a room, locked the door, and with a pair of scissors, cut off all the long hair I had grown since childhood.
I was in shock, pleading:
– “Mom! Please, no… not my hair…”
She gritted her teeth:
– “What’s the point of so much hair? To attract other men? I’ll cut it off and show you real humiliation!”
The sound of the scissors cutting through my hair echoed in the house. I choked on my tears, but she didn’t stop.
After finishing, she shoved a small bag of my belongings into my hands:
– “From now on, you’re going to a convent. I don’t want a shameless woman like you in my house anymore!”
I fell to my knees, begging:
– “Mom, please… I haven’t done anything wrong…”
But she turned away and left, leaving me trembling in the yard. I grabbed my bag and walked out of Carlos’s house, while the neighbors whispered and stared.
It began to rain lightly, and the cold seeped into my bones. I didn’t know where to go, but I remembered what she had said: “To the convent.” So, I walked to a small convent on the outskirts of town.
The nun in charge took one look at me and allowed me to stay in the kitchen. With my disheveled hair and swollen eyes from crying, I became the talk of the town.
At the convent, I helped the nun clean, cook, and grow vegetables. No one yelled at me or criticized me; only the sound of the bell and the scent of incense soothed me.
The nun told me:
– “Don’t hold onto your anger. Resentment will only hurt you. Live well, and time will show you the way.”
I listened, and little by little, I began to calm down. I enrolled in a sewing course in the city, studying in the mornings and working at the convent in the afternoons.
Three months later, I was making beautiful clothes, which I sold to tourists visiting the convent. Slowly, I opened a small shop at the convent’s entrance and started earning a steady income.
Carlos still visited me in secret, crying and begging me to return home, but I shook my head:
– “I won’t go back until your mother understands.”
He lowered his head, helpless.
One rainy afternoon, DoNa Teresa appeared at the entrance of the convent. She was thinner, with graying hair. When she saw me, she knelt down, tears in her eyes:
– “Ana… forgive me… I was wrong…”
I stayed silent. She explained that after I left, Carlos moved to an apartment and refused to talk to her. The store was empty, and only then did she realize the value of the care I had given.
– “Come back home… I swear I will never treat you like that again.”
I remained silent for a long moment, then replied calmly:
– “Mom, I’m not angry anymore. But I’ve built a life here. If I return, everything will go back to how it was.”
She cried and grabbed my hands tightly:
– “If you forgive me, I’ll be at peace…”
I nodded slightly. I had forgiven her, but I wasn’t going back. I chose to stay at the convent, continue my sewing, and open vocational classes for the village’s young people.
My story shocked many. From being a humiliated daughter-in-law thrown out of her home, I managed to stand tall and create a new life.
I learned that sometimes, leaving is the most profound lesson for those who’ve hurt us. And forgiveness doesn’t mean forgetting—it’s about letting go and finding peace within yourself.
