For breakfast, my husband threw boiling coffee at my face because I refused to give his sister my bank card. He said, “Either you obey or you go.” I went to the hospital, kept the medical report, and when I came back, I left my wedding ring on the table without imagining what he would find after.
“If you don’t give my sister your bank card, get out of my house!” shouted Alejandro Salazar, before throwing a cup of coffee boiling directly into his wife’s face.
It was not an accident.
He did it on purpose, blinded by anger and with the cold security of a man convinced that no one in his house would dare to face him. The burning coffee splashed the left cheek of Valeria Morales, descended by her neck and soaked the white blouse she had chosen for a video call with her customers. For two long seconds he couldn’t even scream. He just felt fire.
Then came the pain.kara
Valeria knocked down the chair when she got up, ran to the sink and opened the cold water with shaking hands. The icy jet hit the burnt skin while trying to catch his breath, but Alejandro didn’t even move.
She stood by the table, holding her phone, watching the scene as if she was exaggerating.
“See what you forced me to do?” he said in a much more terrifying calm than the attack. My sister will be here this afternoon. You’re going to deliver her your bank card, your brand bags and everything she wants. If you don’t like it, pick up your things and disappear.
Valeria closed her eyes.
Not because of the pain.
But because, for the first time in years, he accepted a truth that he had been refusing to recognize for too long.
That man had not lost control.
I thought she belonged to him.
They lived in an apartment in Polanco, Mexico City. It was not a luxury property, but it was from Valeria. I had bought it before getting married, after working for eight years as an administrator in a logistics company, saving every bonus, every bonus and every weight others spent on vacation.
Alejandro later appeared in his life with his charming smile as an insurance agent, his flawless costumes and an almost supernatural ability to like everyone.
For the neighbors he was a careful man.
For his mother he was the perfect son.
And for his sister, Rebecca Salazar, it was a source of money… although it was hardly ever her own, but the wife they could always squeeze.
Rebekah never asked for anything small.
First it was an imported perfume.
Then a designer jacket.
He then borrowed two hundred and fifty thousand pesos “just for a week.”
She later wanted to use Valeria’s credit card to pay for a nail course, a new TV and a trip with her friends to Cancun.
Every time Valeria said no, Alejandro’s tone changed.
“It stops being so stingy.
That’s what the family is for.
You are too cold to understand.
My sister has suffered greatly.
That morning, while they were having breakfast, Alexander read a message from Rebekah and gave the order without even looking up from the phone.
Rebecca needs your card. He was refused a payment.
“No,” Valeria replied firmly. I already loaned him money three times and he never gave me back a single weight.
Alexander hit the cup against the table.
I’m not asking you.
And I’m not negotiating.
That’s when the cafe flew out.
As the cold water kept falling on her face, Valeria managed to see her blurred reflection in the kitchen window.
The skin was completely red.
The eyes full of tears.
The tight lips so as not to beg.
For years he became convinced that Alejandro had only a strong character.
That Rebecca was selfish, but harmless.
That families sometimes intruded too much.
That marriage meant enduring hardship.
But no one should bear for the person who promised to love her to throw boiling coffee at her face.
Alejandro took the car keys.
I’m going for Rebecca. When I come back, you better have learned your lesson.
The door closed with a door.
Valeria was left alone in the kitchen.
The bitter smell of the burnt coffee was still permeated in her clothes as a silent decision began to grow inside her.
He wrapped ice in a towel.
He took his bag and his documents.
And he left the apartment without even turning off the computer.
In the emergency department, the nurse asked him twice if the burn had been an accident.
Valeria was about to answer yes.
Out of habit.
Out of shame.
And for that irrational fear of getting the man in trouble that had just hurt him.
But when he opened his mouth, a completely different truth came out.
My husband threw me boiling coffee.
The medical staff photographed the injuries, documented every detail in the medical report and requested the intervention of a social worker.
Valeria signed the complaint with a trembling hand.
But he signed it.
She later returned to the department accompanied by two police officers.
He didn’t come back crying.
He went back carrying boxes.
He kept his clothes.
Your computer.
Your external hard drives.
The Department’s Writings.
The property documents.
The jewels he had inherited from his grandmother.
The coffee maker you bought with your first salary.
Even the blue tableware that Alejandro always claimed was “of the two”, even though he had never paid a single dish.
