Chapter 10 - The Daily Humiliations
He never once spoke up for me. And my patience, much like my love for him, was rapidly bleeding out.
The daily humiliations became as routine as breathing. Doña Carmen would intentionally hide the expensive groceries I bought with my hard-earned salary, claiming they had "gone bad."
Fernanda would steal and use my expensive perfumes—the few lingering remnants of my past life of wealth—and carelessly leave the empty bottles scattered on my dresser as a taunt.
"This dinner is completely tasteless," Doña Carmen would sneer if I cooked.
May you like
"I suppose this is how poor people eat in the South."
I clenched my teeth and endured it. I would hide in the bathroom, turn on the shower to muffle the sound, and cry in agonizing silence. I thought about calling my mother a thousand times. But my foolish pride stopped me. My mother had been absolutely right, but admitting that meant returning home in utter defeat. I still desperately wanted to believe Diego would change.
