For five long years, I spent more time in the hospital with my wife than I did with my own. I fed her with a spoon, changed her bandages, and wiped away every drop of sweat from her body. People said I was dumb, but I believed in the holy tie of marriage. One afternoon, I forgot my purse at home and arrived home earlier than normal. When I opened the door to our room, I stopped. In the blink of an eye, the world I had defended for years fell apart.
Esteban was in his forties and had a slender but strong body. His face seemed older than his years.
He and his wife, Sofía, resided in a little, one-story house on the outskirts of Guadalajara.
They were both teachers in elementary school and lived a calm, uncomplicated existence. They weren’t rich, but they were happy.
Many people around them thought their love story was great.
Then, one cold afternoon, something terrible happened.
Sofía was in a car accident on her way home after shopping for the Day of the Dead.
She couldn’t move her legs because of a spinal injury.
The hospital called Esteban while he was teaching.
He ran without thinking, and when he saw her, his heart fell. His joyful and lively wife was lying still, her eyes full of tears, and she couldn’t talk.
Esteban took a long break from work after that day.
He took care of Sofia’s needs by feeding her, bathing her, and giving her physical treatment at home.
Their tiny house turned into a makeshift hospital with medicine, bandages, and other supplies.
Some people advised putting her in a nursing home that specializes in this type of care. But he said no.
“She’s my wife.” I’ll look after her. No one else.
He got up before dawn every day to make her atolito (atrolito), feed her, and then proceed to her house to resolve electrical problems.
He sat beside her bed at night, read to her, and rubbed her arms and legs in the hopes of waking up her nerves. Esteban cried like a child the first time a finger moved a little.
Sofía hardly said anything. She lived in silence, only nodding or sobbing softly now and then.
Esteban thought that quiet meant there was no hope… but also thanks. He never had any doubts about her. He merely felt sorry for them.
At first, family members from both sides came to see them and offered to help.
But as time went on, life pulled them apart. There weren’t many visits. Esteban didn’t hold them responsible.
He recognized that taking care of someone who is paraplegic is a long and lonely path, and not everyone has the strength to walk it with you.
Life became boring, slow, and terrible until that day came.
Esteban He was on his way to get something resolved when he suddenly remembered that he had left his wallet at home.
There were critical papers, money, and a receipt he needed to give to someone inside. He turned around, figuring he would only be in there for a short time.
But when he opened the door, he stopped.
The light from the evening sun came through the small window and lit up the scene, which also destroyed his whole universe.
There were two persons on the bed where Sofia had been sleeping for five years. There was a man seated just next to Sofia, too. Wearing brown slacks and a white shirt, he was tall. I thought I knew his face. He immediately recognized the physical therapist that she hired once a week to assist her.
But the thing that surprised him the most wasn’t him; it was her.
Sofia was on her knees. Standing up. Not helped.
And her hands were shaking when they held the physical therapist’s, like if they were clutching something precious and important.
“Sofia…” Esteban whispered, his legs shaking. His voice was hardly a whisper. Her body was limp.
They both looked back. Sofia’s face turned pale, and her eyes got bigger. The man hurriedly pulled his hands back and stood up like a kid who had been caught stealing candy.
Esteban didn’t yell. He didn’t use bad language. He didn’t hit anyone. He merely stood there, his eyes full of a thousand feelings.
“How long… how long have you been able to walk?”
Sofía looked down. She whispered back after a few seconds of silence:
“Almost eight months.”
“Eight… months?” Esteban said it again, shocked.
Sofia’s eyes filled with tears. For the first time in years, they weren’t because of agony.
“I was scared… scared that you would find out. I’m scared of how you look at me, what you anticipate, and myself. I don’t know who I am anymore. For these five years, I felt like a ghost. I didn’t know what to do when my body started to heal. You gave me everything, yet I couldn’t love you the same way anymore.
Esteban didn’t say anything. Betrayal didn’t break his heart. Five years of love, dedication, and faith had turned into nothing, which is why it was broken. He always believed that love could improve any situation. But he had forgotten that some scars are not physical but emotional.
The other man wanted to escape, but Esteban stopped him.
—”You don’t have to go.” The only thing I want is the truth.
The physical therapist put his head down:
“I never wanted this to happen…” But she needed someone to hear her. You were her spouse and caregiver, but you weren’t the one who understood her anymore. “She was alone, even in your love.”
Esteban didn’t say anything else. He left the house with the wallet he had come back for, which was now a sign of the moment when everything changed. The walk back to work seemed to take twice as long.
It rained that day.
Later, he went to live with family in Veracruz. Not a single complaint. No lawsuits. He swiftly signed the divorce papers and gave Sofía the house.
He wrote in wobbly but firm handwriting, “This is my thank you for five years of marriage.”
He went back to school, this time at a modest school in the country. Life was slower and sadder, yet it was also lighter.
Someone asked him one day, “Do you regret giving up so much?”
Esteban shook his head and smiled tiredly:
“No. When you truly love someone, the cost doesn’t matter to you. But from now on… “I’ll learn to love myself before I love someone else.”
There are no bad guys or perfect saints in this story. Esteban wasn’t guilty of loving too much. Sofia wasn’t wrong for wanting her life back.
The underlying tragedy was that they both thought love was enough to keep everything safe, even things that had already died in silence.