My mother-in-law hit me in front of my husband. And the next morning, they woke up to an empty apartment.

The last straw

“How dare you speak to me like that, insolent!” Carmen Morales shouted, frowning furiously.

Her hand shot up so quickly that Laura didn’t even have time to move away.

The s.lap echoed through the kitchen, breaking the silence.

The spoon fell to the floor, and Laura’s heart sank with rage and pain.

Carmen had never accepted her daughter-in-law.

She considered her too quiet, too “know-it-all,” too different.

Since her son Javier lost his job and the young couple had to move with her to Seville, living together became unbearable.

Laura endured the humiliation in silence, hoping that her husband would finally stand up for her.

But as the days passed, he laughed more and more at his mother’s words.

That night, everything came to a head.

Javier spilled the bowl of soup on his new pants.

Laura, exhausted, sighed:

“Well, now you clean it up.”

Carmen stood up like a wild beast and sl:apped her.

“Don’t ever talk to my son like that again!” she shrieked.

Javier burst out laughing.

“Mom, look at her face! She looks like a wet hen!”

Tears filled Laura’s eyes.

That was the moment when everything broke inside her.
She grabbed her coat and ran out.

“She’ll be back,” Javier muttered, turning on the TV. “She has nowhere else to go.”

“Of course she’ll be back,” Carmen replied smugly. “A woman should know her place.”

But that night, Laura had already made up her mind.

An hour later, she returned. Silently.

She cleared the table, cleaned the floor, and sat in a corner with a book.
She seemed resigned.

But inside, everything had changed.

The next morning, the golden light of Seville filtered through the curtains.

Carmen got up early, as always, and went to the kitchen.

But something didn’t fit.

The cupboards were open. The shelves were empty.

The coat rack, with no sign of Laura’s coat.

“Javier!” she called out in a trembling voice. “Come here!”

He appeared half asleep, but when he looked around, he froze.

All of Laura’s things were gone.

On the table, a note written in firm handwriting:

“Thanks for the lesson. Now I know who I am.You can keep everything,
except my dignity.”

“Laura.”

Javier read the note with trembling hands.

“It can’t be…” he muttered.

Carmen snorted.

“She’s making a scene. She’ll be back, you’ll see.”

But the days passed. Then the weeks.

And Laura never returned.

Meanwhile, Laura was already in Madrid, where her friend Isabel welcomed her into her small apartment in the Lavapiés neighborhood.

She started working in a bookstore, and over time, she opened her own artisan workshop: “Luz de Lavanda.”

Every day she learned to breathe again.

To smile without fear.

To look in the mirror and recognize the woman she had always wanted to be.

Her scented candles, handmade with dried flowers and natural oils, soon became famous in the neighborhood.

People said:

“When you light one of Laura’s candles, the house smells peaceful.”

One night she received a message.

It was from Javier:

“Laura, Mom is sick. I miss you. Please come back.”

She looked at the screen for a few seconds and slowly typed:

“You don’t miss the woman you loved.

You missed the one you could dominate.

But that woman no longer exists.”

She left her phone on the table, opened the window, and breathed in the fresh Madrid air.

The sky still held shades of pink.

Laura smiled.

She had lost everything false, but she recovered what was most valuable: herself.