From Mother to Employee
It didn’t stop there. It got worse.
One afternoon, Lucía snapped at me.
“Mom, why did you give him bread with jam?”
“He likes it,” I said softly.
“You know he can’t have processed sugar! You’re ruining his diet. If you’re going to take care of them, do it properly.”
I stood there. Speechless.
I paid for their food. Cooked their meals. Cleaned their messes. Gave them my time. My energy. My health.
And still—it wasn’t enough.
Javier complained too.
“Your house smells too strong, Mom. All that disinfectant—it’s not good for the kids.”
I felt something inside me fade. Slowly. Quietly.
I wasn’t Marta anymore. I wasn’t their mother. I was just… convenient.
