My youngest son, who is an aviation pilot, called me. Mom, something strange happens. My sister-in-law is in the house. Yes, I replied. He’s in the shower. His voice dropped to a whisper. Impossible, because I have his passport in my hands. She just boarded my flight to France. At that moment I heard footsteps behind

me. I’m glad you’re here.
If you are watching this video, like it, subscribe to the channel and tell me in the comments from where you hear my story of revenge. I want to know how far he has come. This morning, like any other day, I was hurrying to wash the dishes after breakfast. Esteban, my eldest son, had gone

to work early, leaving the house in silence to my grandson Mateo, that clever seven-year-old imp had also been taken away by the school bus.
And Araceli, my daughter-in-law, Esteban’s wife, had just climbed the stairs. His soft voice reached my mother. I’m going to take a bath for a while, yes. I nodded, smiling. I barely finished arranging the last dish. When the landline rang, I wiped my hands on my apron and walked quickly to

To answer Ivan’s cheerful and young voice, my youngest son filled the line.
Mom, I’m just calling to say hello. I had a little free time on a layover at the airport. Listening to her voice was like a cuddle for my heart. Iván is my pride, a young co-pilot who always goes from one place to another living the dream of conquering the skies that he had since he was a child. I smiled and

I asked a couple of things about his flight, about how he was doing.
He laughed loudly and told me that everything was going well, that the work was going smoothly. But suddenly his tone changed, as if hesitating to say anything. Hey, Mom, something very strange happened. My sister-in-law is in the house. I was surprised. I looked up the stairs from where I could still hear the running water in the bathroom. Of course

yes, mijo. Araceli is bathing upstairs. I replied very confidently.
Araceli had spoken to me less than ten minutes ago and was wearing that white blouse that she always wore to be at home. How could I be wrong? But on the other end of the line, Ivan was silent for a long time, so much so that he could even hear his breathing. Then his voice became very loud.

serious, full of amazement.
Mom, it’s impossible because I have your passport here in my hand. He has just boarded my flight to France. I laughed, thinking that he must have been confused. Oh, mijo, you must have dressed badly. I just saw Araceli. He even told me that he was going to take a bath. I tried to explain calmly to him to

reassure him, but he didn’t laugh.
He didn’t answer me as usual. He told me in a slow voice, as if he were trying to sort out the story in his head, that when all the passengers had boarded, he ran out to get some papers he had forgotten and by chance found a passport lying near the door of the

embarkation.
At first he thought about giving it to the airport staff, but when he opened it to see who it belonged to, he froze. The photo was of Araceli. His name was there, clear. There was no way to get confused. My heart started beating faster, but I tried to stay calm. Are you sure, Ivan? That

Passport could be someone else’s.
I told him, although a thorn of uneasiness had already stuck in me. Ivan sighed, and his voice was now a mixture of bewilderment and firmness. Mom, I just went down to the passenger cabin to check if it’s her. She is sitting in first class next to a man who looks very rich and elegant. Were

talking very closely, as if they were a couple.
Ivan’s words were like a stab. I stiffened, squeezing the phone receiver with my head, spinning as if they were a couple. Impossible. He had just heard Araceli’s voice from upstairs. I had just seen her in the flesh in this very house. But just in that

At that moment the sound of water in the bathroom stopped. The door of the 4th floor was heard opening and Araceli’s voice came down the stairs.
Soft, but strong enough to make me jump. Mum! Who’s speaking? I panicked. My heart was pounding so hard I felt like it was going to jump out of my chest. I just answered a friend of mine quickly with a trembling voice and I quickly went into the room to avoid Araceli’s gaze, who

He poked his head out of the stairs with his hair still soaked.
I closed the door and whispered into the phone, trying not to show my nervousness. Iván, I just heard Araceli. It’s here. He has just taken a bath. Are you sure you weren’t wrong? On the other side, Ivan was silent again and then his voice became harder. Mom, it’s impossible. Got it

right across the street on this plane. I’m seeing it clearly. I was speechless with a blank mind. I hung up the phone with my hands shaking so much that I almost dropped the receiver.
The room suddenly felt suffocating, although outside the sun was shining brightly. I sank into the armchair trying to take a deep breath, but my chest felt squeezed by an unanswered question. Yes, Araceli was here. Who was the woman on Ivan’s flight? What if the one on the flight was Araceli?

Who was the person who was in my house? A few minutes later, Araceli went down to the kitchen.
She was wearing a light blue dress, very clean, with her hair still damp, and she was smiling with the same sweetness as always. Mom, I’m going to the market early today. Do you want me to bring you some vegetables or something? His voice was kind, familiar, as if nothing strange was happening. I looked at her trying to force a

smile, but inside I felt as if I were carrying stones.
Yes, mija, bring some tomatoes, please. I replied with a dry throat. Araceli nodded. He took his palm basket and left the house. Its silhouette disappeared behind the gate. I stood there, watching her leave with a whirlwind in my soul. I didn’t think Ivan was lying to me. My child doesn’t

I had no reason to invent such a story. He has always been a straight boy, very sensitive and affectionate with his family.
But Araceli, the daughter-in-law with whom I have lived for so many years, was also in front of me. Of flesh and blood. Unmistakable. I asked myself. Is there something I missed? Is there a secret in this house that I, an old woman, have never noticed? I sat quietly in the living room as the light of the

Noon filtered through the curtains, drawing faint streaks of light on the tile floor.
The old armchair where I always sit to knit or read stories to Mateo. Now it also seemed heavier. Ivan’s call kept echoing in my head. Each of his words was like a hammer blow in my heart. I looked around the room where Esteban and Esteban family photos were hanging.

Araceli on her wedding day.
Mateo, newborn and Iván’s radiant smile when he put on his pilot’s uniform for the first time. All those memories now seemed shrouded in a haze and full of doubts. I’m Estela Márquez, a 65-year-old widow who lives in a quiet, middle-class neighborhood of the City

of Mexico.
My husband, Don Rafael, left ten years ago, leaving me with the two children I love more than my own life. Esteban, the eldest, is a very hard-working architect, always involved in his plans and projects. Iván, the youngest, is my pride for having made his dream of being a pilot come true. My life turns

around Esteban’s small family, my daughter-in-law Araceli, my grandson Mateo.
And the quiet days in this house. Araceli, my daughter-in-law, was always the perfect model in my eyes. She was pretty, hardworking, always impeccable. From the way he dressed to how he took care of Mateo. I still remember their wedding day. A big party that was held in the courtyard of his parents’ house.

Although Araceli’s family was not wealthy, they did their best to make everything perfect.
Araceli walked into my house with a confident smile, a bright look, as if she was born to be a wonderful wife and mother. I thought how lucky she had been to have a daughter-in-law like her. After Araceli left for the market, I sat there, inadvertently grasping the edge of the market.

of the tablecloth. Iván’s call made me go over small details that seemed normal to me before.
There were days when Araceli would leave the house saying that she was going to the market or to see a friend, but when she returned she looked like someone else. One day she was all sweetness, she hugged Mateo and sang to him to put him to sleep. But other days he was in a bad mood and yelled at me just because I forgot to put the salt shaker in his

place.
I used to think it was a young woman’s mood swings. But now she wasn’t so sure. His heart was in knots as if someone was stirring up all the memories he treasured so much. I remember that once, a few months ago, Araceli took a pen to write the list of

commanded with the right hand.
Her handwriting was very straight and careful, but the next day I saw her use her left hand and she wrote with more scribbles as if she were not used to it. Did I ask her Since when do you write with the other hand, mija? She laughed and replied quickly Ah, no more I’m practicing for fun, mom. I

I nodded without giving it any more importance, but now that detail had become a sharp piece in my mind.
I was lost in thought when I heard the door open. Mateo ran in with his backpack, dancing on his back. He hugged me tightly, saying in his little sparrow voice Grandma. Today the teacher congratulated me because I drew very beautifully. I stroked his head trying to smile, but

I still felt a weight in my chest. Mateo sat down and took out his notebook to teach me.
Gran. Look, yesterday my mom helped me do my homework with my right hand and the handwriting was very nice. But today he wrote with his left and it came out uglier. The boy pointed to two pages of the notebook, one with the handwriting well formed and the other with the handwriting all crooked. I looked at the lyrics and felt that I was

it shrank my heart.
Your mom must have been busy today. I must have been tired and that’s why she wrote like this, I told her, trying to hide my confusion. But Matthew looked up with his innocent eyes. Grandma, my mom is very strange, there are days when she hugs me well, very tightly, but other days she doesn’t even look at me. The words

of my grandson were another stab. I hugged him trying to comfort him, but in my head everything was starting to get tangled.
Just at that moment the doorbell rang. I got up, opened the door and saw Doña Remedios, my good neighbor, standing there with the plate that Araceli had brought her the day before. He smiled at me with that usual kind smile, but there was curiosity in his eyes. Estela, how beautiful your daughter-in-law is. But yesterday I gave

realize that she gave me the plate with her left hand and according to what you had told me, she is right, right? How strange.
Or is it that he uses both hands? I smiled forcefully and replied: Maybe if Remedios doesn’t want to stop by for a tea. She nodded and entered, but her comment stuck in me like a thorn. Not only me, but even the neighbors had noticed the difference. I poured him tea. We talked about

anything, but as soon as he left I collapsed in the armchair with my hand on my chest.
I froze feeling like the world was coming down on me. That afternoon I went out into the garden with the watering can in my hand, trying to get the water to fall gently on the daisies that I have cared for for years. The sun was beginning to go down. The shadows of the trees lengthened in the yard, but my soul did not

he found peace.
The words of Mateo, Doña Remedios and Iván’s firm voice on the phone continued to spin in my head like pebbles thrown into a calm lake, creating ripples that did not stop. I watered the plants, but my mind wasn’t there. Could it be that I’m too old to realize

the weird things that happen in my own home? Or could it be that I have purposely turned a blind eye wanting to believe in the happy family I always dreamed of? Araceli returned from the market carrying her palm basket.
But what caught my attention was that he was holding it in his left hand. I remembered perfectly that Araceli always used her right hand, from how she grabbed the knife to chop vegetables to how she combed Mateo’s hair. Did I stand there, watching her put the basket on the kitchen table and

I asked her in a low voice What did you buy, Araceli? My voice tried to sound natural, but inside a wave of suspicion grew.
She smiled and replied very politely. Yes, Mom. I brought some tomatoes, cilantro and fresh fish. In the evening I will prepare the grilled fish that you like. Do you think so? His voice was soft, as always, but I couldn’t help but notice his hands. The left? No, the right. I nodded and gave myself the

Pretending to clean the table.
But my heart was pounding. I would be imagining things or these little details were trying to tell me something. At dinner time, the whole family gathered at the table. Esteban was tired after a long day at work, but he still smiled at Mateo and asked him how he was doing.

I had gone to school.
Araceli ate slowly, delicately and even turned to Esteban to remind him of my love. Next week is Mateo’s parents’ meeting for you to set aside the day. I looked at her trying to find the daughter-in-law of whom I was so proud, but in my head Ivan’s voice kept resounding.

She is sitting in first class next to a man.
I bit my lip trying to swallow the anguish, but it felt like a stone stuck in my throat. Only three days later everything was different. Mateo dropped a glass of water during dinner and the water splashed all over the tablecloth. I quickly grabbed a rag to wipe off, laughing. It’s okay

millet. Just be more careful. But Araceli, sitting opposite him, suddenly frowned and said in a curt voice.
Matthew, why are you so clumsy? Be more careful. I stood at Esteban in six. He also frowned and said to her in a low voice. Araceli: It was an accident. Nothing else. She turned around with a spark of anger in her eyes. You always defend him and I look like the bad guy in the house. The atmosphere in

The table became heavy.
Mateo lowered his head with his eyes full of tears. I hugged him feeling a deep pain. It had been just a few days before. Araceli reminded him tenderly of school and now he seemed like a different person. Completely. I sat next to him, watching silently, trying to put the pieces together in my head. Today

He was irritable. The other day it was a love. Today he used his left hand.
The other day the right. These small differences, one by one, were accumulating in my mind, like the pieces of a puzzle that I could not yet see completely. I told myself that I had to calm down, but every time I looked at Araceli, I saw a stranger as if she was not the daughter-in-law with whom I was

I had lived so many years.
A few days later I took Mateo to school. He took me by the hand as we walked down the usual cobblestone street. Suddenly he stopped, looked at me and said in a sad voice Grandma. Yesterday my mom taught me how to write. And he had a lot of patience. The lyrics were very nice to him, but today he didn’t even want to see my

task.
He told me to do it by myself. I bent down to look at his clear little eyes and felt my heart break. Your mom was busy. Mijo, don’t be sad, I told him, but my voice trembled. Mateo nodded, but his gaze was still full of disappointment. I hugged him feeling enormous helplessness. Hardly

He is seven years old.
How could I understand something that I couldn’t even decipher myself? That night we sat down again for dinner. Suddenly, Araceli took a notebook out of her bag and began to write something with her left hand. Esteban, who was helping himself to food, laughed suddenly. Hey. How long have you been writing with your left?

You look good, weird. Araceli stopped short, with a forced smile on her lips.
Ah, no more. I’m testing my love. He quickly put the notebook in his bag, but I noticed that there was a glint of panic in his eyes. Esteban shook his head and said nothing more. But I knew that he had noticed something strange too.
I sat there, squeezing the spoon, trying to keep my face straight, but inside the doubts grew like a slow fire. One morning I took the empty spice jar and crossed the usual cobblestone street to go to Doña Remedios’s house. Araceli had borrowed it from him a few years ago

weeks saying that it was to make the mole poblano that Esteban likes so much. I knocked on the door and Doña Remedios opened it with her usual friendly smile.
Estela pass it on, let me prepare you a coffee, she told me still with a cloth in her hand. I gave him the jar thinking of thanking him and leaving, but he pulled me to sit on a wooden chair in his kitchen. The atmosphere was warm, it smelled of roasted coffee, but I couldn’t relax. Doña Remedios

He looked with doubtful eyes and lowered his voice. Estela, don’t get angry about what I’m going to tell you in a little while.
Your daughter-in-law has changed her character. One day she greets me well, happy she even asks me about my children. But yesterday he passed through here. I waved to him and he didn’t even peel me, as if he didn’t know me. Doña Remedios’ words were like another stone in the troubled lake of my heart. I smiled forcefully and answered him

She must have been in a hurry.
Remedios, You see how young people are now, but inside I was in a mess. I knew that Doña Remedios did not talk for the sake of talking. She is a very sentimental person, who always pays attention to details. If even she noticed how strange Araceli was, then my suspicions were no longer

imaginations of mine.
I stayed a while longer. I took a sip of the coffee. Already cold and I said goodbye to leave with a heavy soul. On the way back I stopped by Don José’s bakery, where I always buy sweet bread from Mateo. Don José was dispatching and when he saw me he smiled. Doña Estela, what are we going to give the champion today? Did I ask him for some

shells and suddenly he asked me You are Esteban’s mother, right? His wife came the other day very kindly. He even told me how delicious my bread was.
But this morning he came again with a face of few friends. He bought the bread and didn’t even give thanks. He went straight away. I stiffened, squeezing the handle of my bag. She must have been tired, José I replied with a trembling voice. I thanked him quickly and left. Don José’s words

They were another razor, cutting deeper into the doubts that were growing inside me.
When I got home I made myself some tea and sat on the porch. The wind blew gently, bringing the smell of daisies from the garden. I looked at the street that leads to the market where Araceli always left. Suddenly I saw her come back carrying her grocery bag, but she greeted me in a dry voice.

Good afternoon, Mom.
Without a smile, without the joy of yesterday, when he boasted to me that he had been given a cheap bunch of coriander. I nodded and answered in a low voice. Are you back yet? But inside I couldn’t help but observe her more closely. The blouse I wore today was navy blue, different from the white blouse I wore when I was

he’s gone.
I tried to ask him in a soft voice. Why did you change your blouse? Araceli stopped for a second and then answered quickly. Ah, I got stained and had to change it. He half-smiled and quickly went into the kitchen. I stood there with the cup of tea in my hands, feeling like a rock was crushing me

the chest.
The words of Doña Remedios, of Don José and the way in which Araceli answered everything forced me not to continue ignoring things. That night we were all having dinner. Mateo told things about school with his cheerful little voice, but I noticed that Araceli only nodded without answering him, as on other occasions when

Esteban asked her, “Have you finished eating, so that your mom can pick up the dishes?” Mateo suddenly turned to me and innocently said, “Grandma!” Oh, my mom didn’t sing to me to fall asleep. Yesterday he did sing me the song Old Woman that you always sing to me and it sounds very beautiful.

I looked at Araceli, who was helping herself to food without reacting, but Mateo’s words were like a slam pin in my heart. That lullaby, that cute little sky that I sang to Esteban and Iván. Only Araceli and I knew her in this house. So why did he sing it yesterday and not today?

Why was it changing so quickly? I got up to pick up the dishes, but my mind was no longer there.
I remembered the times Araceli would leave the house saying she was going to see a friend, but she would come back with a strange look. One day she brought a bouquet of fresh flowers saying that it had been given to her by a friend, but another day she got angry when I asked her Where did you go today that you were so late? I used to

I thought they were unimportant things, but now they seemed like the pieces of a much bigger secret. I didn’t want to believe that Araceli was hiding something from me.
But every word, every gesture of his, made me doubt. That night, after cleaning the kitchen, I sat down at the dining room table and pulled an old notebook out of a drawer. My hand trembled as I wrote the first line. 3:00 p.m. Araceli goes on the market. Return at 6:00 p.m. Brings

blue blouse. Irritable attitude.
I didn’t know what I was doing, but I knew I couldn’t keep pretending that nothing was wrong. He kept writing. Yesterday she sang to Mateo to sleep, tender, today cold. He did not sing to her. Each word was a heavy stroke, as if I were etching my suspicions into reality. My old notebook was now

full of notes about Araceli.
Each letter was a piece of my doubt, as if I were painting a picture I didn’t dare to look at. I sat in the kitchen, looking at the notebook with a heavy heart. I couldn’t keep all these thoughts to myself anymore. They were like waves that rose and fell, leaving me alone in my confusion.

I needed someone to talk to. Someone who understood me, who didn’t judge me, who didn’t jump to conclusions.
I immediately thought of Carmela, my best friend, the one who has been with me since we were young, when we sat down to knit under a tree and told each other about our lives. I picked up the phone with a trembling voice. Carmela, are you free in the afternoon? Let’s go to the café on the corner. I need

speak. Carmela instantly accepted his voice, as warm as ever.
Estela knew something was wrong with you. Wait. I’m going there. I felt a little relieved, but the worry still weighed heavily. I put on my old shawl and left the house for the small café on the corner where Carmela and I have shared so many joys and sorrows.

The place remained the same, with its dark wood tables and that delicious smell of freshly roasted coffee. I chose a table in a corner where the light was dim so that no one would hear our conversation. I sat there hugging the hot cup of coffee but with an icy soul. I was wondering how I’m going to

tell all these suspicions? How dare I admit that I am doubting my own daughter-in-law? Carmela arrived wearing a light sweater and carrying a bag of fresh vegetables.
He sat down, looked me straight in the eyes, with that sharp but affectionate gaze. Not Estela, just seeing your face. I know something big is wrong with you. Let’s see, let it go. What brings you as a banshee? I took a deep breath, trying not to let my voice break, but every word got stuck in my throat. Him

I told everything in a summarized way.
Iván’s call from the airport, Araceli’s passport, the woman identical to her on the plane and all the little details she had written down from how she changed hands to write to her mood that changed from day to night. I took the notebook out of my bag and passed it to him. Look, here it is

I wrote everything down.
I don’t know if I’m imagining it, but I can’t play dumb anymore. Carmela went through the pages with a frown. I read his fingers slowly, going over my trembling handwriting. Have you noticed everything? Estela said in a serious voice. Every time he leaves and comes back it’s as if he were someone else. What do you think

whatever? I shook my head, squeezing the cup of coffee.
I don’t know, Carmela. I just know that I’m scared. Fear that Araceli is hiding something. Afraid that my family will break up if I dig deeper. But I can’t stop. I have to know the truth. By Esteban. By Matthew. Carmela put her cup down on the table and looked at me determinedly. Women are not deceived

easy, Estela. What does your gut tell you? I’m sure there’s a cat in the closet here.
You have to get to the bottom of this. I hesitated and my voice became a whisper. But what if I’m misjudging her? What if I hurt Esteban? Carmela interrupted me firmly. Listen to your gut. If you don’t discover the truth, you will always live with doubt and thus you will not be able to protect either Mateo or

Esteban.
Just at that moment, Doña María, the lady who sells vegetables in the market and whom I know, entered the café, recognized me and smiled. Doña Estela, what a coincidence! Last week I saw his daughter-in-law at the market. He greeted me very kindly. He even bought me an extra bunch of cilantro for cooking. But today

In the morning it happened again. Very serious. Nor did he say hello. He bought his vegetables and left.
Is something wrong with your daughter-in-law? He was smiling forcefully and I answered. She must be tired. Mary. But inside I felt like I was drowning. Another person, who noticed how strange Araceli was. I thanked Doña María. I saw her leave and turned to Carmela. Sure. With panic in my eyes

Carmela took my hand and her voice softened.
You see, Estela, it’s not just you. Even the neighbors notice. Don’t fool yourself anymore. Keep writing everything down. And if necessary, you’re going to have to follow it. Not to hurt him, but to protect your family. I nodded, but I felt my heart sinking.

I knew Carmela was right, but the thought of following my own daughter-in-law made me feel like I was betraying my family. I have spent my whole life taking care of this home and now I had to do something I never imagined. Investigate one of mine. That afternoon I returned home still with the

head in a mess. Araceli left the house carrying her familiar blue basket. Mom, I’m going to the market for a moment. He said in a soft voice.
I nodded, but as soon as he disappeared behind the gate, I opened my notebook and wrote. 15:00 in the afternoon Araceli goes to the market. It has a blue basket. Normal attitude. I stood there, looking at the clock, counting every minute. At six, Araceli returned. But the basket he had in his hand was now red. ¿Me

I was surprised and asked him: Did you change your basket? She smiled and answered quickly, if the other one broke and a friend lent me this one. I nodded.
But my hands trembled as I added to the notebook. Return at 6:00 p.m. He brings a red basket. You’re in a bit of a hurry. My notes were piling up. Each line was a step closer to the truth, but also a step away from the image of the old mother who only knows how to love and trust. The End

During the week, Esteban went to work overtime early and Mateo was at school in an activity, leaving the house in silence, just for me and Araceli.
I was cleaning the dining room table, trying to keep myself busy to ward off the doubts that were eating away at me. But then Araceli came down from her 4th grade in a pale yellow flowered dress, as fresh as in her first days of marriage. Mom, I’m going to the market for a little while. He said in a soft voice.

He took his usual palm basket and left. I nodded smiling, but inside a voice insisted on me. Follow her, Estela, go and seek the truth.
I didn’t think twice. I took my shawl. Old. I put it on my head to cover my face a little and left the house quietly, keeping a safe distance behind Araceli. The sun was beating down, the sweat was soaking my back, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to know where I was really going,

What did he do?
Araceli walked quickly down the cobblestone street that leads to the market, but suddenly, instead of turning right, as usual, she turned left into an alley behind a working-class area. The houses were old, pressed against each other, with the walls unpainted and the roofs of

Rusty foil. I slowed down with my heart beating a thousand miles an hour, trying to hide behind some bicycles parked on the sidewalk.
Araceli didn’t turn around, she kept walking. He stepped into an even narrower alley, where the sunlight barely reached. I hid behind a mechanic shop where a man was very concentrated, tightening nuts. I saw Araceli stop in front of an old wooden door, knock softly and

then enter and disappear.
I stood there, my breathing heavy and my head spinning. What was my daughter-in-law doing there? This was not the market or the house of any of the friends she had mentioned. I wanted to walk there, knock on the door, ask him directly, but my feet seemed nailed to the ground. I had him

fear of the truth. Fear that what I was about to discover would break everything.
In the end, I turned around and returned home full of questions. Each step heavier than the last. As soon as I pushed open the gate of the house, I froze. Araceli was standing in the kitchen, chopping vegetables in a white blouse that was completely different from the floral dress she had been wearing

Out.
His brow was furrowed, and he looked at me with cold, sharp eyes. Where did Mom go who just returns? I stiffened, my mouth dry, unable to say a word. Only a few minutes ago I had seen her enter that alley in a yellow dress. How could he have come back so quickly? And this

blouse? Did I stutter? Went.
I went for a walk. No more. Araceli nodded without saying anything else, but her look gave me a shiver. I got into my 4th grade pretending that I was going to look for something, but in reality it was to escape from that look, to calm my heart that beat wildly in my chest. That night I was sitting knitting when Matthew

He ran into my 4.
With red cheeks from playing in the courtyard, He hugged my legs, sobbing. Gran. Alas! My mom scolded me just because I dropped a pencil. Not like yesterday. Yesterday she was very good, she even hugged me. I took Mateo in my arms, I caressed his head, but inside I felt that he was burning me. Your

Mom was tired. Mijo, don’t be sad, I told him, but my voice trembled.
Mateo hid his face on my shoulder and whispered Grandma, I love yesterday’s mom. I hugged him tighter with tears about to come out. Seme. My grandson’s words were like a razor, engraving deeper the suspicions he was trying to repress. That night I couldn’t sleep. I lay on the

bed with her eyes wide open, looking at the ceiling. The images were repeated over and over again in my head.
Araceli, with the floral dress entering the alley. Araceli with the white blouse standing in the kitchen and Iván’s voice is on my flight. I took the notebook out of the drawer and wrote a sentence that I didn’t even dare to believe. Maybe they are not the same person. That phrase felt like a curse and I

it made you tremble.
The next morning I decided to return to that alley. I could no longer bear the doubt. I took the family photo that hangs in the living room where Araceli smiles radiantly next to Esteban and Mateo. I grabbed her tightly and left the house determined but scared to death. The alley was the same as yesterday,

silent and somber.
I stopped by a corn stand where a middle-aged lady was blowing air on the coal. I showed him the photo and asked him. Excuse me. Have you seen this girl around here? The lady took a good look at her and then pointed to. Oh yes, of course. He goes in and out followed by the house at number 14. That one over there.

I thanked him.
With my heart pounding in my throat and I walked straight to that house. House number 14 appeared in front of me, with stained walls, a stripped wooden door, and a flower pot with a withered daisy in the window frame. I stood there with trembling hands, feeling that the world

The whole of it held its breath with me.
I knocked on the door and each knock sounded like a hammer blow in my chest. The door opened and I was speechless. In front of me was a woman identical to Araceli. From the face, the body to the long black hair. The only difference was his frightened look and his hands that trembled as they held a

rag.
I stammered with a broken voice. Araceli. The girl was startled. He squeezed the rag tightly and tried to slam the door shut. But just at that moment, another voice was heard from within. A soft but firm voice. Isidora don’t hide anymore. You also know that this is wrong. I looked up

and I saw a young woman come out of a corner of the 4th floor, standing just behind the woman who was just like Araceli.
She was slim, with her hair tied back and had an intelligent but kind look. He looked at me and smiled slightly. Let me introduce myself. I’m Luciana Varela, Isidora’s 4th grade classmate, Doña Estela. Please come in. It’s about time I knew the truth. I took a deep breath trying not to let my legs tremble and went in

to that little house with tight tin metal.
The walls were stained, the cement floor cracked, and a faint smell of disinfectant hung in the air. In a corner, an older man was coughing weakly, lying on an old cot, covered with a threadbare blanket. I felt like the space was crushing me, but I still walked and sat in the chair

made of wood that Luciana pointed out to me.
The woman, identical to Araceli, lowered her face and her voice was barely a whisper. Forgive me, I am not Araceli. My name is Isidora. I looked at her with my mind in a whirlwind, unable to say anything. Isidora The name was strange, but the face was all too familiar. I clenched my hands trying to keep my voice

firm. You explain to me why you look so much like my daughter-in-law and why you appear in my house.
Isidora looked up with her eyes full of guilt, but she didn’t answer immediately. Instead, Luciana sat next to him. He poured a glass of water from an old plastic jug and began to talk. “Isidora is very poor,” said Luciana in a calm and clear voice. Her adoptive parents are

very sick, especially the man who is lying there.
A few years ago, Isidora met Araceli by chance in a market. They looked like two drops of water and Araceli took advantage of that. He proposed to Isidora that he impersonate her, that he replace her for a few hours whenever he needed it. Isidora didn’t want to, but Araceli paid her

very well and his family needed the money for medicines.
I looked at Isidora and saw that her head was down, squeezing the rag so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Did I press her with a voice full of disbelief, replace her so that? Why would Aracely need someone to impersonate her? Isidora looked up with her voice

trembling.
I don’t know, everything, ma’am. She only told me: You just stay in the house for a few hours. Do some things like go to the market, take care of the child and he already gave me money, a lot of money, enough to buy my parents’ medicines. I. I didn’t dare to ask any more. He lowered his head and the tears began

to roll down his cheeks.
I looked at her feeling my chest tighten. Every strange detail of the last few months. Suddenly the change of hand to write the character, sometimes sweet and sometimes sour, made sense. The voice, sometimes honeyed and sometimes cold. Everything fell into place now, like the last pieces of a puzzle that

he had refused to see. Luciana continued with a sharper look.
I don’t know if this helps, but I once saw Araceli with a very elegant man. His name is Salvador Quiñones. I heard the name when they were chatting in a café. They said My love to each other very affectionately. At that moment Isidora was waiting outside, in the car, not understanding anything. The name Salvador Quiñones

It was like a knife in my heart. I remembered Ivan’s words.
She is sitting in first class next to a rich man. The small room seemed to circle around me. I tried to stay calm, but my hands were shaking so much that I threw the glass of water away. Luciana hurried to clean up, but I just shook my head, my voice choking. She. Araceli

He’s deceiving my family. Isidora burst into tears with a broken voice.
Forgive me, ma’am, I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. I just wanted to save my parents. I looked at this young woman with a face identical to Araceli, but with a look full of pain and regret. I wanted to get angry. I wanted to scream. But when I saw Isidora I only felt pity. She wasn’t the mastermind.

He was only one piece in Araceli’s game.
Everything was falling apart in front of my eyes. I stood up trying to make my voice sound firm. Isidora. Do you know where Araceli is? Do you know what she does when she asks you to impersonate her? Isidora shook her head and still cried. I don’t know, ma’am. She just told me to do what she asked me to do

and that he would pay me. I didn’t dare to ask any more.
Luciana put a hand on her shoulder to comfort her and then turned to me. Mrs. Estela, I know that this is very painful for you. But Isidora is also a victim. He had no choice. Look around the humble house, listening to the weak voice of the man on the cot. I understood the desperation

of Isidora, but that did not erase the feeling of betrayal she felt.
I clenched my fists trying to hold back tears. I don’t blame you, Isidora, but I need to know the truth. I need to protect my son and grandson. I woke up feeling like the world was coming down on me. Thank you Luciana for telling me the truth. ‘Ll. I walked out of the house and the bright sun outside

It blinded me.
But my heart was frozen. The next morning I went back to look for that little alley where the stained walls and the unpainted wooden door had become an obsession in my mind. The sun was still beating down, but I felt a cold inside, as if I were carrying an icy wind of

unresolved doubts.
I knocked on the door of number 14 pressing the family photo as if it were an amulet that would give me the courage to face the truth. This time Isidora didn’t seem so scared anymore. He opened the door with a look still shy, but calmer, and invited me in. Doña Estela was waiting for her.

Come in, please. The house was still small, with that smell of disinfectant and the weak cough of the man on the cot.
I sat down in the old wooden chair and looked at Isidora. She wore a simple blouse, her hair pulled back loosely. She looked tired but no longer scared. I took a deep breath and said quietly. Isidora, I want to meet your adoptive mother. I need to understand all of this better. Isidora nodded and took me to a

corner of the 4.
º where a very thin woman, with completely white hair, was lying on a bed with cloudy eyes looking at the ceiling. It was Doña Felicitas Morales, Isidora’s adoptive mother. I took his skinny hand and introduced myself. I am Estela Márquez, Esteban’s mother, Araceli’s husband. Doña Felicitas me

He looked at him breathing heavily, and said in a weak voice. Isidora is not my blood daughter. She is a girl I adopted when I was a newborn.
His words were like a hammer blow to my head. I froze, my heart pounding, but I tried to make my voice sound calm. Tell me, please, how it all happened. The lady coughed and then, slowly, began to tell me a story for which I was not prepared. Many years ago

years, I was a nurse in a hospital in a village. It began with a trembling voice.
A very poor family. She had twins. They were so poor that they couldn’t support both of them. The mother was crying. He said that he could only keep one of the other. They were going to abandon her. My heart broke. I couldn’t let them abandon that creature. So I adopted it. That’s Isidora. He stopped to

cough for a long time and then looked at Isidora with immense love.
I raised her as if she were my own, but I know that she has always wanted to find her real parents. I have nothing to give him but my love. And this house? I sat there, holding on to the edge of the chair, my head spinning. Do you know who Isidora’s biological parents are?

I asked in a trembling voice. Doña Felicitas shook her head.
I only know that they were a poor family from a nearby town. Don’t ask too much. He just wanted to save the girl. I looked at Isidora and saw her with her face down, tears rolling. “Mrs. Estela, I don’t know anything about my biological parents,” she said in a choked voice. But when I met Araceli I thought that at the same time

she better know something. He looks so much like me, but he never told me anything about it.
I felt short of breath. I asked Doña Felicitas to let me see her old papers in the hope of finding some clue, pointed to an old wooden wardrobe. Isidora took out a yellowed paper envelope and gave it to me. Inside was a copy of some hospital papers with the date of

Isidora’s birth.
I read them quickly and felt my heart stop. Isidora’s date of birth was exactly the same as Araceli’s. The one I had seen in her papers when she married Esteban. I grabbed the documents with trembling hands and looked at Isidora. You, you and Araceli could be sisters

Twin. I said with a lost voice.
Isidora burst into tears, covering her face. So Araceli is my sister. Why didn’t he say anything to me? Why did he make me do all that? I looked at her with my heart shattered. I remembered the days when Araceli came to my house radiant and confident, as if she had been born to be the wife and mother

Perfect. He had loved her.
I had thought it would bring happiness to Esteban, but now I knew that not only had he deceived my family, but he had also taken advantage of his own sister, using her as his double to hide secrets that I didn’t dare to imagine. I got up, put my hand on Isidora’s shoulder and my

Her voice, though firm, could not hide her pain. Isidora from today I will not let anyone else take advantage of you.
I’m going to help your parents with their illness, but in return you have to cooperate with me. I need to bring this truth to light. For Esteban, for Mateo. Isidora nodded without stopping crying. I’m going to help her. I don’t want to live in this lie anymore. I looked at her and saw sincerity in her eyes and for the first time I felt a

A ray of hope in the midst of the storm. I left the house, I walked down the alley with a revolted soul.
I passed by the bustling market where people were shopping and laughing. But in my mind, Doña Felicitas’s words rang out like bells. Two twins, one abandoned, the other a maid. And now their fates had crossed in my own family. I returned home with a mess. As a

countryside after a storm.
The truth about Araceli and Isidora. The secret of the twins was a rock that crushed my chest. I was at a crossroads for which I was not prepared. To face my daughter-in-law, the woman who had deceived us all, and to reveal the truth to Stephen and Matthew. That night I called Iván. My

My voice was firm, though my heart trembled. Ivan, tomorrow night you have to come to the house.
There are a few things I need you to clarify. Ivan was surprised. I could hear the concern in his voice. Mom, did something serious happen? I said curtly. You just come, mijo. I need you. And if you can, bring Araceli’s electronic passport. He asked no more. He just said Yes, Mom, I’ll be there. I hung up and sat down

feeling that the whole world was coming down on me.
I knew that tomorrow night would be one that no one in this family would forget. The next day I woke up early and prepared a big family dinner. I put a white tablecloth on the table, lit some candles. I cooked the mole poblano that Esteban likes so much and the grilled fish that Mateo always asks me for.

I wanted this dinner to be special, not to celebrate, but to mark a before and after. I was in the kitchen chopping vegetables, but my mind was elsewhere. Between that gloomy alley and Isidora’s words, I told myself that I had to be strong for Esteban. By Matthew. But

Each cut of the knife felt like a cut in my own heart.
Esteban came home when it was getting dark, tired from work. When he saw the table set he was surprised. And now what is celebrated? That you made so much food? Mum? I smiled trying to look calm. He just wanted us all to have dinner. Rich. Sit down, mijo. Araceli came in in her light blue dress,

A soft smile but with some nervousness in her eyes.
Mateo ran to hug my legs. Grandma, the fish smells so good! I stroked his head with a lump in my throat. He knew that after tonight Mateo’s innocent smile might not be so carefree again. We sat down at the table and at first the atmosphere was lively. Esteban

he told things about work. Mateo spoke excitedly about the drawing he made at school.
Araceli nodded commenting from time to time, but I noticed that her hand trembled a little when she took the spoon. I took a deep breath and beckoned to Ivan who was waiting outside. He entered and just behind him came Isidora in a simple dress, her face identical to Araceli’s, but with a look

full of anguish. Everyone at the table was silent.
Mateo looked confused at Isidora from Araceli and asked innocently. Why are there two moms? Esteban turned pale, dropped the spoon and Araceli jumped up screaming. What’s this all about, Mom? I stood up, holding on to the edge of the table so I wouldn’t shake. Sit down, Araceli. Him

I said in a slow but firm voice. I need us to clarify everything.
I started counting and every word tore me apart inside. Ivan’s call from the airport when he saw her on a flight to France. Although she was still at home the times she changed hands to write her character. Sometimes sweet and sometimes sour. And finally, my visit to the alley where I met

Isidora and discovered the secret of the twins.
Are you and Isidora twin sisters? I said looking straight into her eyes. Did you take advantage of your sister to hide the truth? Tell us what the truth is. Araceli trembled with her face as white as paper. He screamed trying to defend himself. He’s making everything up to humiliate me. How dare you? But Ivan

He approached and put a wad of papers on the table tightly.
This is a copy of the e-passport with the entry and exit stamp from France, he said in a harsh voice. You can’t be at home and fly to France at the same time. Araceli looked at the papers with her lips pursed, unable to say anything. Matthew, sitting beside him, suddenly intervened with a voice

innocent but full of pain.
It’s true, grandma. Some days my mom is an angel and other days she’s really mean. I don’t like the bad mom. My grandson’s words were like a stab and I had to restrain myself from crying. The air in the room felt so heavy that it was hard to breathe. I nodded and beckoned to Luciana,

who had just walked in through the back door.
He stood there with his sharp gaze and counted in front of everyone. I saw Araceli with Salvador Quiñones. They called each other My love. And it was she who hired Isidora to impersonate her and deceive the family. Esteban turned to his wife with a choked voice. It’s true, Araceli, tell me. It’s true?

Araceli bit her lip silently for a long moment and suddenly screamed in her voice full of fury. Yes, that’s true.
I have a lover. I am tired of this life of the poor. Tired of being the daughter-in-law in this house. Salvador gives me a life 100 times better. And you, Esteban, are good for nothing. His words were like a bomb that exploded in the room. Esteban froze, clenching his fists so tightly that he

they put targets on it. Mateo burst into tears and ran to hug me with a trembling voice.
Grandma, what did my mom say? I hugged him tightly and tears rolled down my cheeks. I looked at Araceli with a broken heart. She stood there, with a cold stare, without a hint of regret. Esteban got up with his voice trembling. Araceli D. Do you really think that? She turned around without

answer.
Isidora, who had been silently on the side, suddenly spoke in a low but clear voice Sister, you didn’t have to hurt them like this. I just wanted to help you, but I didn’t know it would come to this. Araceli glared at her, but said nothing. He just turned around and walked out. The door closed in one fell swoop.

slamming the door, leaving the room plunged into a painful silence. After that confrontational night, the air in my house felt like his life had been stolen.
The room that had previously been filled with Mateo’s laughter and Esteban’s talks, was now in a drowning silence. I had lived my whole life for my family, but now I felt like someone who had just survived a hurricane. Standing in the rubble of the home that had been there so much

care.
Araceli left after shouting those bitter words, leaving Esteban with a blank look and Mateo with innocent tears. I knew that everything had changed forever. A week later, Esteban and Araceli went to court for divorce. I didn’t go, but Esteban told me later in his voice

dry, as if he had lost his soul. Mom didn’t look at me or Mateo.
She signed the papers and left with that man, as if we had never existed. I sat down next to him. I held her hand trying not to cry. Araceli did not ask for custody of Mateo, as if the child had only been part of a play of which she had already had enough. My heart ached,

not only for Stephen, but for Matthew. A seven-year-old boy who didn’t deserve to be abandoned like this. Don’t worry, mijo, I said with a trembling voice.
I will always be here and Mateo will never lack love. But inside I knew that this wound would take a long time to heal. Esteban broke down, became silent, spoke little. He would just sink into his work or sit and watch Mateo play in the yard.

I looked at my son and saw in his eyes the same sadness that Don Rafael had in his last days, when he knew that he could no longer stay with us. I wanted to hug him, tell him that everything was going to be okay, but I didn’t know where to start. Luckily, Isidora appeared silent as a small light in

the darkness. He came to the house every day.
Did she bring containers with hot food, Did she sit down to play with Mateo and wipe his tears when he asked, Auntie, where did my mom really go? I looked at Isidora, I saw that face identical to Araceli’s, but with a completely different heart. He was sweet, patient, and always found

the way to make Mateo laugh.
One afternoon I saw Mateo run to hug Isidora with his cheerful little voice: Mom, Isidora, teach me how to draw a little bird. I was surprised with a heavy heart. The boy called her mom with a carefree smile that he hadn’t seen in a long time. Isidora laughed and stroked his head.

Of course, my love. But you have to draw it really nice for me to see it. I stood there, tears rolling.
Matthew’s innocent words were like medicine that eased my pain. I knew that Isidora had not only replaced Araceli in those days of deception, but that she was becoming a part of our family with her own sincere heart. One night, while I was cleaning the kitchen, Esteban

He called me into the living room.
He was standing there, holding a small ring with trembling hands. His gaze was a mixture of nerves and determination. Isidora stood beside him, her face flushed and her eyes shining. Esteban knelt down and his voice broke. Isidora I don’t want to waste any more time. You brought us the light to

me and Mateo.
Would you agree to be my wife and Mateo’s mom? Isidora burst into tears, looking at me as if seeking my approval. I walked over, took his hand, and nodded gently. You deserve it, mija. You have been part of this family for a long time. He hugged me.
Her tears wet my shoulder, and I knew that this was the moment when my family was beginning to heal. Esteban and Isidora’s wedding. It was soon after, something small but full of love. I was in the yard watching the red roses tied to the fence, listening to Mateo’s laughter as he wore his

suit, being his father’s little godfather. Ivan flew back from a work trip and stood next to his brother with a smile as radiant as the day he first put on his pilot’s uniform.
I sat in the front row with tears rolling down my cheeks. They were not tears of loss, but of happiness. I looked at Isidora in her simple wedding dress, holding Esteban’s hand and knew that my family had found a sincere heart. After having lost a fake, the

Life after that he returned to calm.
Isidora kept her life simple by taking care of Esteban and Mateo with all her love. I cooked hot meals, I sang to Mateo to sleep with the same cute little sky that I sang to my children. Every night he sat next to Esteban listening to him talk about his plans, his projects.

With a look full of pride, Mateo no longer asked about his other mother, he only snuggled with Isidora calling her mom. With a radiant smile I looked at my family and saw how the wounds were closing little by little. One night, I sat on the porch. The wind blew gently in the

garden. Mateo’s laughter could be heard from within, mixed with Isidora’s sweet voice.
I looked out and saw Esteban focused on his work while Isidora made him a cup of tea, put it aside and gave him a soft kiss on the forehead. I smiled, feeling that my heart was finally resting. I thought about the long road I had traveled since the first doubts, since the call of

Ivan to that dark alley where I discovered the truth.
The truth had been cruel, but as Don Rafael used to say, the truth will set you free. Wake. And so it was. The truth set us free. He brought us Isidora and gave us a much brighter and happier new start. The story you just heard has been modified in names and places to protect the

identity of the people involved.
Do we not count this to judge, but in the hope that someone will listen and stop to reflect How many mothers are suffering in silence within their own home? I really wonder if you were in my shoes. What would you do? Would you choose to keep quiet to keep the peace? Or would you dare to

face it all to get your voice back? I want to know your opinion, because every story is like a candle that can light someone else’s path.
God always blesses. And I am convinced that courage leads us to better days. Meanwhile, on the final screen I leave you with two of the channel’s most beloved stories. I’m sure you’ll be surprised. Thank you for staying with me until this moment.