Elena stared at Tomás without blinking. He rubbed his face with his hand, irritated, as if this conversation exhausted him more than any workday.
“We can’t go on like this, Tomás,” she finally said.
—So what? So you’re always criticizing me? So you’re always attacking my mother?
A cold knot formed in his stomach.
“I didn’t attack her, Tomás. And you know it. The problem is that she’s been doing things she shouldn’t for years. And you let her.”
Tomás let out a short, bitter laugh.
— Really? All this for a crappy credit card?
Elena took a deep breath, trying to stay calm.
— It was never about the card. It’s about all the years you didn’t stand up for me. Years your mother came into my life, my things, my space, and you always pretended not to see anything.
Tomás shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
— You’re exaggerating. Mom just wanted to help. Okay, sometimes she goes too far, but…
“Sometimes?” Elena interrupted. “Tomás has been rummaging through my things for years. Talking to me like I belong to him. And the worst part is, you know it and you keep quiet.”
He remained silent. His gaze fell upon the documents on the table.
“What is that?” he asked cautiously.
Elena pulled the folder towards her.
— Documents for a temporary separation. I haven’t filed anything yet. But before deciding… I wanted at least an honest conversation.
Tomás stood up suddenly, as if someone had slapped him.
— Separation? Because of this? Because of a fight with my mother?
“No,” she said calmly. “Because of all the fights we never had. Because of all the times I had to keep quiet so as not to upset Margarita. Because of the years I felt like a guest in my own life.”
Tomás began pacing the room, running his hands through his hair.
— That’s absurd. We were fine. You never said you wanted to leave.
Elena followed him with her eyes.
—Because I was hoping you’d see it for yourself. That you’d understand. But today… today you crossed a line. When you said I should have warned your mother it was an investment card… I realized you no longer see any limits.
Tomás stopped by the window, leaning on the sill.
— What do you want then? Tell me clearly.
Elena already knew the answer.
— I want you to understand that in this marriage it’s just you and me. Not you and your mother while I watch from the sidelines. I want boundaries. I want respect.
He turned towards her with eyes filled with both anger and fear.
— What if I promise I’ll try? What if I talk to her? What if… I make an effort?
Elena shook her head slowly.
— Promises aren’t enough anymore. Not after all these years. I want real change. I want us to go to therapy. Together. And I want you to acknowledge that there’s a problem — not just with her, but with how you react.
The silence became thick, almost tangible.
“I don’t know if we need therapy…” she murmured, without conviction.
— Tomás… I don’t want to “fix” you. I want to save what can perhaps still be saved.
He turned completely toward her. For the first time, Elena saw real fear on his face.
— Don’t go… please.
“I’m not leaving today,” she replied. “But if things continue like this… one day I will leave. And then there will be no turning back.”
Tomás slumped back into the chair, his shoulders slumped.
— Okay. I’ll go to therapy. I’ll talk to Mom. I’ll tell her to stop interfering. I’ll try, Elena. I really will. But don’t expect me to change overnight.
For the first time in years, his words didn’t sound like an excuse, but an admission.
Elena took a deep breath.
— I don’t want you to be another man. I want the man I chose. Without Margarita’s shadow between us.
Tomás hesitated for a moment and then extended his hand toward her. A hesitant gesture, like a bridge yet to be built.
Elena gazed at her for a few seconds, then placed her hand on hers.
The contact was fragile, fearful, like a first step on unknown ground.
—Then… let’s try it — he said in a low voice.
“Let’s try it,” Elena repeated, with a newfound calm and a firm determination, that of a woman who finally knows her own limits and will not allow them to be crossed again.
In the kitchen, the clock ticked with unsettling regularity, as if announcing a beginning… or an end yet to be determined. But for the first time in a long time, they were sitting on the same side of the table.
