Mariana Castañeda: the woman who never had her place in the kitchen

But Mariana celebrated none of this.

— I didn’t want to destroy anyone. I just wanted to get my life back.

Three months later, Mariana was in a small office at the Castañeda Council when Rafael entered.

— I have news.

— Which ones?

— Diego requested a meeting.

Mariana remained silent.

— He wants to give the money back.

She frowned.

– All ?

— He’s trying.

Mariana looked out the window.

— And what does he want in return?

– Nothing.

She was surprised.

— He said he finally understood that he had spent years trying to prove that he was more important than you.

Mariana smiled sadly.

— It took some time.

— Are you going to receive it?

She thought for a few seconds.

– Yes.

Diego entered the office twenty minutes later.

He wasn’t wearing a tuxedo.

He didn’t own a luxury watch.

Valeria wasn’t there.

A tired man, simply, holding a briefcase.

— May I sit down?

– You can.

He placed the documents on the table.

— I started selling my things.

Mariana remained silent.

— I can’t return everything right away.

— I didn’t ask for everything.

He lowered his eyes.

– I know.

After a few seconds, he said:

— I wanted to apologize.

Mariana took a deep breath.

— I accept your apology.

He raised his eyes, full of hope.

— Does this mean we can get back together?

Mariana shook her head.

– No.

Diego remained motionless.

« I still love you, » he said.

– Maybe.

She replied calmly:

— But I finally understood that loving someone does not mean accepting everything about that person.

He nodded slowly.

— You’ve changed.

Mariana smiled.

– No.

She stood up.

— I simply stopped putting myself down in order to integrate into someone else’s life.

Diego took the file.

Before leaving, he looked at her one last time.

— You’ve always been much taller than I imagined.

Mariana replied:

– I know.

The door closed.

And, for the first time in eight years, she did not feel the need to pursue it.

Mistress of her own life

That evening, Mariana went home.

The food was always the same.

The marble sink.

Light-colored cabinets.

The huge window.

She remembered the pieces of broken glass from that night.

Blood on his finger.

These are comments from Diego.

And she realized something she had never understood before.

For eight years, she had felt she had to prove her worth.

That evening, she finally understood that she had never needed it.

Her worth did not depend on having a husband.

Nor the esteem of his stepmother.

Nor from a rival.

Nor from a company.

Nor a family name.

She already possessed all of that before Diego even entered her life.

Mariana turned on the tap.

But this time, there were no dishes waiting for him.

There was only a glass of wine on the table and a window open onto the city.

She raised her glass.

And she smiled.

Because that night, for the first time, the woman who everyone had told to stay home realized that she had never belonged in the kitchen.

She had simply spent eight years forgetting that she was in control of her own life.