I gave birth alone; just a few hours later, my mother texted me: “Your sister’s kids need new phones; send 40,000 pesos.” I remained silent. A week later, she showed up at my door yelling, “What’s wrong with you?” That was the moment I broke down…

PART 2

After that day, my family didn’t explode.

It wore me down.

The messages were no longer simple complaints. They were long, venomous, calculated. Claudia told me that her oldest son had cried because “his aunt didn’t want him anymore.” My mom would write entire paragraphs about everything she had sacrificed for me, as if feeding me as a child were an outstanding debt I had to pay for life.

I didn’t block them.

She told me it was to have proof. Screenshots. Dates. Messages.

But the truth was…