PART 2 — The Years She Never Told Them About
The years passed quickly.
Lucas graduated first.
Then Elena.
Both moved to different cities.
Both built careers.
And both became increasingly busy.
Maria always told them she was proud.
Whenever they called, she never complained.
“How are you, Mom?”
“I’m wonderful.”
“Are you eating properly?”
“Of course.”
“Are you working too much?”
“No, sweetheart. I’m taking it easy.”
She lied.
She had become very good at it.
Because the truth was that Maria was still working.
She had never stopped.
Her children occasionally sent money, but she always returned it.
“You need it more than I do,” she’d say.
Lucas eventually became a successful civil engineer.
Elena became a doctor.
They bought cars.
Moved into beautiful apartments.
Their lives became comfortable.
Maria remained in the same small apartment above the bakery.
Years went by.
One Christmas, both children came home.
Maria prepared everything herself.
She cooked for two days.
She baked the cake Daniel used to love.
She decorated the tiny apartment with old photographs.
When Lucas arrived, he hugged her.
“Mom, you look tired.”
She laughed.
“I’m getting old.”
Elena looked around the apartment.
“You still live here?”
Maria smiled.
“Where else would I go?”
Elena noticed something.
The ceiling above the kitchen had a dark water stain.
“Mom, when did that happen?”
“A few months ago.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
“It’s nothing.”
Lucas frowned.
“Mom.”
She waved him off.
“I’ve handled worse.”
That sentence stayed with him.
Later that night, while Maria slept, Lucas and Elena sat together in the kitchen.
“She gave us everything,” Elena whispered.
Lucas nodded.
“I know.”
“She never asks for anything.”
“I know.”
Elena looked toward the hallway.
“Do you know how much she sacrificed?”
Lucas lowered his head.
“I think we’re about to find out.”
The next morning, they quietly went through some old boxes.
They found receipts.
School payments.
Old bank statements.
And a pawnshop receipt.
Elena picked it up.
“What is this?”
Lucas looked at the date.
It was the year he started university.
Then they found another.
And another.
Jewelry.
Furniture.
Daniel’s old watch.
Even the small car Maria had once owned.
Everything had been sold.
For them.
Elena covered her mouth.
“She sold Dad’s things.”
Lucas stared at the receipts.
“She told us she was fine.”
“She wasn’t.”
They kept searching.
Then they found something that made both of them silent.
A notebook.
Maria had written in it for years.
Not diaries.
Expenses.
Rent.
Electricity.
Food.
Tuition.
Medicine.
And sometimes, at the bottom of a page, one sentence.
“Lucas needs his books.”
Or:
“Elena’s university deposit is due Friday.”
Or:
“I can work one more weekend.”
Elena started crying.
Lucas closed the notebook.
“We’ve been asking her how she’s doing.”
Elena wiped her tears.
“And she always said she was fine.”
Lucas looked toward his mother’s bedroom.
“We believed her.”
“No,” Elena whispered.
“We let her make us believe her.”
