One day, Lucía scolded me for giving the child bread with jam.
“You know he can’t eat sugar. You’re ruining his diet. If you’re going to care for them, do it properly,” she said arrogantly.
I paid for their meals and cleaned their messes.
And still, they treated me like an employee.
Javier even complained that my house smelled too strongly of disinfectant and said it was bad for the children.
I felt invisible.
Not Marta, the woman who worked for decades.
Not the mother who raised them.
Just… the grandmother who existed to solve their problems.
The final moment came when I overheard Javier say on the phone:
Continue on the next page:
