It was all because of the rules, his obsessive control over the family order, his almost cruel demands on his wife, and his parents’ attitude, who dealt with everything, including marriage. Like an inversion, all those loose pieces spun around in my head without forming a complete picture, but a bad feeling was becoming increasingly clear. We finished tidying up and went back to the living room. Mr. and Mrs. Sánchez were leaving. As they said goodbye, Mrs. Sánchez took Lucía’s hand and, in a seemingly affectionate tone, said, “Lucía, we’re so glad to see you taking care of the house and the children too.”
Marcos works a lot and is under a lot of pressure. You have to be understanding. Do your duty, and that way we’ll have peace of mind.” Lucía nodded meekly. “Will I, Mom?” Miss Joe addressed me, Mr. Sánchez, before leaving. “Thank you for dinner. I hope you enjoy your trip. Lucía is very lucky to have a friend like you, but however good friends are, in the end, everyone has their own life, don’t you think?” Her words were a clear invitation for me to leave, a dismissal with a velvet glove.
Of course, Mr. Sánchez. Thank you for the advice. I met his gaze without arrogance, but without subservience either. True friends not only share joys, but are also there to help when needed. Regardless of the distance, he seemed surprised by my direct answer. He stared at me for a moment, said nothing more, and left. After saying goodbye to his parents, Marcos loosened his tie. A genuine weariness was visible on his face, which, however, transformed back into that calculating calm when he looked at Lucía.
“You behaved quite well today,” he assessed her like a boss to his employee. “Especially the children, very obedient. Dinner was good too, although the potato salad needed a little more salt. Keep that in mind next time.” “Okay, I’ll add a little more next time,” Lucía replied immediately. Marcos nodded and, as if remembering something, said, “I have to finish some work. I’ll sleep in the office tonight. You go to bed now.” With that, he went straight to his office and closed the door.
Lucía stood staring at the door, expressionless, her eyes filled with profound exhaustion. The children were sent to bed, and the living room was once again just for the two of us. “You’ve seen it,” Lucía said with a smile that wasn’t really a smile. “This is my life. It seems perfect, doesn’t it?” I didn’t know what to say. I could only take her icy hand. “Actually, when you get used to it, it’s not so bad,” she repeated. “I don’t know if it’s for me or for herself.”
“At least it’s given me a family, a stable life. Many women don’t even have that.” “Lucía, don’t you deserve better?” I said with difficulty. “Better,” she said, looking at me with empty eyes. “What’s better, Sofía? I’m 38 years old, I have four children. If I leave here, where will I go? What can I do? I could barely support myself.” Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. Financial independence is the foundation of everything. She knew it, but she’d been trapped for so long that she’d lost the strength and courage to fight.
“Perhaps you could try to do something, even from home,” I suggested. “You were very good at writing.” Marcos wouldn’t agree, he said with a bitter smile. “He says my job is to manage the house. Getting distracted by other things would be irresponsible.” Again, Marcos said—his words were law in that house. It was pitch black, and lying in bed, I couldn’t sleep. Lucía’s desperate, resigned gaze was constantly on my mind, as were those of her in-laws, who were scrutinizing her like merchandise, and Marcos’s, always calm, yet controlling everything.
Something didn’t add up. If he were just a controlling, chauvinistic man, it would be understandable, though not acceptable. But some of his behaviors, especially his strict control over money and his nervousness about certain things like the folder, smelled like something else. I suddenly remembered our dinner conversation about risk management and project funding. What exactly did his medical supply company do? I took out my phone. Investigating my friend’s husband behind her back wasn’t very ethical, but seeing how Lucía was, I decided to do it.
I searched online for Marcos’s company name and his own. Most of the results were from the company website, product catalogs, and industry news. It seemed like a medium-sized, seemingly solvent company. Marcos was listed as one of the directors, holding the position of operations director. At first glance, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. I tried searching for industry news in Spanish, focusing on small and medium-sized medical supply companies in Spain. A couple of unremarkable articles caught my eye.
Due to the economic crisis and competition, some family-owned and privately held companies in the sector were experiencing financial difficulties and restructuring. Some had even faced tax problems. And if Marcos’s company was also struggling, was that why he controlled household expenses so meticulously? Was that why he was so obsessed with order and stability, because it was the only thing he could control? And he might have even chosen Lucía, a foreign woman with a small social circle and dependent on him, precisely because she was safer and easier to control.
If that was the case, what was Lucía to him? His partner, or a low-cost asset to maintain appearances and reduce risks? The thought sent a chill down my spine. I had to know more. But how? If I asked Lucía directly, she probably wouldn’t know anything or would deny it out of fear. And asking Marcos was unthinkable. It would only raise suspicions and worsen Lucía’s situation. I needed an entry point, a way to access the information without arousing suspicion.
I remembered that I had a visit scheduled for the next day to a small local business with whom there might be some potential business opportunity. Although my hopes were slim, it was an excuse. Perhaps I could indirectly inquire about Marcos’s company’s reputation. There are always rumors in this industry. As I tossed and turned in bed, trying to figure out how to begin, I heard very quiet footsteps outside my door. They weren’t someone going to the bathroom.
Leave a Comment