But that morning, Javier still arrived.
“Your sister can’t make it, and I have an important meeting. It’ll only take a moment, Mom. Just take them with you,” he said, placing the baby in my arms before rushing away.
I had to cancel my appointment because I couldn’t manage two small children in a waiting room full of sick people. That day, I cried out of frustration. My health wasn’t important. Their convenience was.
One Friday, they promised to pick up the children at six in the evening.
Eight came.
Then ten.
Then midnight.
They didn’t answer their phones. The children fell asleep on my couch, crying because they missed their parents.
They finally arrived at two in the morning, laughing, smelling of alcohol.
“Oh, Mom, don’t exaggerate. We needed a break. They’re fine with you,” Lucía said, taking her sleeping daughter without even thanking me.
The most shocking part was that, despite everything I did for free, they still criticized me.
