My son was dying and needed my kidney. My daughter-in-law told me, “It’s your obligation because you’re his mother.” The doctor was already preparing to operate on me. When suddenly my nine-year-old grandson ran into the room and shouted, “Grandma!” I’m telling the truth about why my dad really needs your kidney.

The medical team froze at that moment.
I’m glad you’re here. If you’re watching this video, give it a like, subscribe to the channel, and tell me in the comments where you’re listening to my story of revenge. I want to know how far it’s gone. I’m lying on the ice-cold operating room table. The white light from the surgical lamp hits me.

straight into my eyes.
So blinding that I want to close them with all my might. But I can’t. My whole body feels stiff. And it’s not from the cold, but from a feeling of suffocation. As if fate were squeezing my neck. The beep beep of the heart monitor sounds at a steady pace, but each beat is like a

hammering in my head. I hear every sound in the room clearly.
The metallic clink of instruments as the nurse arranges them, the rustle of paper. When Dr. Ramírez reviews my file, and even the soft whispers on the other side of the glass where my daughter-in-law Fernanda is with her parents. I try to look up through the opaque glass.

There’s Fernanda, her arms crossed over her chest and a razor-sharp gaze. She’s whispering something to her parents, but her eyes never leave me, as if she’s commanding me. Sign now. Do it, don’t hesitate. I’ve already signed the consent form to donate my kidney to Luis, my son. That

The paper should now be somewhere on the doctor’s desk. With my shaky signature like a commitment I can’t retract. The nurse already has the syringe in her hand.
The anesthetic glistens in the light. I close my eyes. I try to breathe deeply, but my chest feels as heavy as lead. I think of Luis, my oldest son, whom I raised and for whom I’ve sacrificed my entire life to protect. He’s in the 4th floor next door, weak, waiting for my kidney so he can

survive. I tell myself this is the right thing to do. As a mother, I have to do it.
But why do I feel this emptiness in my soul, this nameless restlessness? Suddenly, a resounding noise startles me. The operating room door burst open and a blast of cold air rushed in, making the instrument tray on the table rattle and clatter. The whole room seemed to hold

I opened my eyes ,
trying to hold my head up, even though the straps held me tight. Mario, my nine-year-old grandson, came in like a little whirlwind. His sneakers were covered in mud. His school uniform was wrinkled, and his little chest was heaving up and down as he panted. Behind him, a nurse was examining him.

She chased me terrified, screaming as she ran. Kid, you can’t come in here. Oh my God, stop! But Mario didn’t stop.
He ran straight toward me, his big, round eyes full of fear, but also determination. Grandma said in a shaky voice, but so clear it squeezed my heart. I should tell everyone why my dad really needs your kidney. The entire room fell silent.

The beep of the heart monitor was louder now, as if it wanted to tear the space apart. A doctor standing nearby dropped a pair of surgical forceps. The sound of metal against the marble floor was shrill like a cut amid tension. I looked at Mario, my grandson, whom I still

I carried him in my arms and told him stories every night. There he was, clutching an old cell phone, his face pale but his eyes bright.
What did he know? Why was he saying that? My heart was racing, as if it were trying to burst out of my chest. I wanted to scream. To ask him right then and there. But my throat was so dry I couldn’t get a word out. Dr. Ramirez, the head of surgery, frowned. He raised a hand, motioning

a signal to the entire team to stop.
His voice was deep but sharp. Whatever you have to say, say it now. I saw his gaze pass over me and rest on Mario, as if he too were trapped in that strange moment on the other side of the glass. Fernanda slammed the door hard, causing the glass to shatter.

“Don’t listen to him!” she shouted in a shrill, almost hysterical voice. “It’s just a child you’re going to see.” But Fernanda’s gaze was no longer cold. She was trembling with panic, as if a secret were about to be revealed. Mario didn’t look at his mother. He just looked at me, clutching his cell phone in his little hand.

so hard his knuckles turned white.
He took a deep breath, as if summoning all the courage in his life. I wanted to sit down, hug him, tell him not to be afraid, but I couldn’t move. I could only watch. And in my little grandson’s eyes I saw a pain, a truth he was trying to bring to light. In that instant, as all

The room held its breath, memories of the past flooded my mind like an avalanche of those days when I thought my family was a closed circle, full of love and trust.
I remembered my old house, where every corner smelled of disinfectant, a smell I had become so accustomed to that I didn’t even notice it. I am 57 years old, but sometimes I feel much older. As if time had stolen my vitality a long time ago. My husband, Juan, has been bedridden for over ten years.

bed.
He sits in his old wheelchair, whose wheels squeal every time I push him out into the yard to get some air. He almost never speaks. Only occasionally does he let out a sigh, staring off into space. Once I took his hand and asked, “Juan, are you tired of this life?” He just

She blinked without responding. I don’t know if she understood me or if I was just talking to myself.
That house was my whole world, the place where I raised my two sons, Luis and César. I did everything to raise them. I got up at dawn to go to the market to sell fruit. In the afternoons I sat down to sew clothes for the neighbors and sometimes I stayed up until midnight to mend

torn shirts and deliver them on time. My hands became rough and calloused.
My nails always had dirt on them. From digging so much in the market, but I never complained. I just wanted Luis and César to have a better life, not to suffer like me. Luis, my oldest son, was my pride. He was strong, tall. He worked in construction and always came home with a laugh. But in

In recent years, he began to weaken. At first, it was just fatigue.
Then, little by little, I saw him pale, with sunken eyes. And once I felt a terrible terror when he told me he was urinating blood. I hugged him and asked, “Luis, what’s wrong, son?” Tell me. He just shook his head and smiled weakly. “Don’t worry, Mom. It’s probably from working so hard.”

Fernanda, my daughter-in-law, came into our lives like a strange wind. She was beautiful. She spoke sweetly.
And at first, I truly believed she was a blessing for Luis. She cared for him diligently. She brought medicine home, watched his meals, and reminded him to take his pills on time. All the neighbors praised me. How lucky you are, Doña María, to have such a good daughter-in-law. And I believed it too.

Every time I saw Fernanda give Luis a bowl of broth, I told myself I was worrying too much. But sometimes I was surprised by her cold, calculating gaze, as if she were hiding something. Once I saw her in the yard, whispering into her phone in the middle of the night, her voice low but hurried.

Don’t worry. Everything’s going according to plan. I asked Fernanda. Who are you calling so late at night? She jumped and laughed nervously.
Just a friend. Mom, go to sleep now. César, my youngest son, was different. He’s 26 years old. He lives a few blocks from my house and works as a plumber. And an electrician. César doesn’t talk much, but every time he came to visit me, he always brought something to eat. Sometimes oranges, other times a loaf of bread.

still warm.
He would sit next to me, fixing the squeaky ceiling fan or changing a light bulb in the kitchen. Once he looked at me and said in his deep voice, “Mom, don’t work yourself to death like that. I don’t want to see you exhausted.” I just smiled and waved my hand at him. “I’m still hanging in there, Cesar. You worry about your own life.”

Brother. He needs you more. But Cesar just shook his head, his eyes filled with worry. Mario, my grandson, was my only joy during those difficult days.
He’s nine years old and often came to my house with his backpack on his back. Mario liked to sit in the yard playing with some plastic cars I bought him at the flea market. He told me stories, innocent tales that sometimes left me frozen. Once he looked at me with his round eyes and said,

Grandma, my mom was talking on the phone at night. I heard her say something about some medicine, but I didn’t understand.
I smiled and ruffled her hair. I’m sure she was asking the doctor something for your dad. Don’t think about it too much, my boy. But inside me, a seed of restlessness was beginning to sprout. And then, one afternoon, everything changed. I was in the kitchen preparing dinner. The smell of toasted rice wafted through.

in the air. When Fernanda entered, she didn’t say hello.
She didn’t smile. She just stood there with her arms crossed. Her voice was sharp like a razor cutting through the air. Mom, the doctor says only your kidney is a match. It’s your responsibility. You have to save it. I froze. The spoon I was holding fell into the pan with a

A sharp blow.
I looked at her, trying to find a bit of warmth in her eyes, but I only saw a cold determination, almost a demand. Fernanda. I know. I’ll do everything for Luis, I whispered. But my throat felt dry. She nodded as if she’d achieved her goal and turned away. Not even ten minutes passed when

Fernanda’s parents appeared. They entered my house as if it were their own.
They sat at the dining room table and said in unison. That’s right. A mother’s duty is something you can’t run away from. This whole family now depends on you. I stood there, still, with the spoon in my hand, feeling cornered. Luis, who at that moment was leaning back in a chair so

A skinny man I almost didn’t recognize took my hand.
His hand was icy cold. Mom whispered, “I trust you’ll save me.” I looked into his eyes. Those eyes that had shone with so much life as a child and now reflected only tiredness and pleading. I nodded, unable to say anything, suddenly feeling that the small room had become suffocating. The smell of herbs

The medicinal herbs from Juan’s pot in the corner made me feel short of breath.
That night I took Juan his bowl of soup, like every day. The creaking of his wheelchair on the cement floor was a constant reminder that I was carrying this whole family on my shoulders. I placed the bowl in front of him. I looked at him, but he just sighed without saying anything. I wanted to tell him,

Ask him if I was doing the right thing.
But he just stood there, motionless like a shadow. I went out to the yard where Mario was playing with his car. He looked up, his eyes bright but full of doubt. Grandma. What if someone gets sick because someone else gives them medicine? I stopped dead in my tracks. My heart leapt.

Why do you ask that, my boy? I said, trying to remain calm. But Mario just hung his head and continued pushing his stroller without responding. What I didn’t know was that at that moment I was on the edge of an abyss and that only a few more steps would bring me down. The days that followed that afternoon

Since Fernanda came to my house and left me with no choice, my life felt crushed by an invisible pressure, heavier than the stifling heat of a Mexican summer.
I kept getting up early, going to the market to sell my vegetables and oranges, sitting in the dim light to sew clothes. But my soul was no longer at peace. Every step I took, every stitch I made, carried with it a question: Am I doing the right thing? Do I really have to?

Sacrifice myself like that? But then Luis’s pleading gaze, Fernanda’s sharp words, and her parents’ inquisitive stares clung to me, not giving me a single respite.
The next morning, as the sun barely rose, Fernanda was already at my door. She had just made some tea. The scent of mint was just beginning to fill the house when she entered. Without knocking, without saying hello. Mom said in a voice as firm as a nail, “The doctor says there isn’t much time left.”

If you continue to hesitate, he could be in danger.
He placed a stack of medical papers on the dining room table. White sheets full of numbers and signatures that I didn’t fully understand. He pointed out each line as if he were teaching a child. It clearly says here that you are the only match. No one else can save him. I stood there.

Holding the kettle. The hot water burned my fingers, but I felt no pain.
I only heard the sound of the broom scraping the cement as I began sweeping the house as a way to escape Fernanda’s gaze. I heard. I said in a barely audible voice. I’ll do everything for Luis. But inside, a heavy rock oppressed me, making me want to scream, to want to run away. I continued.

Sweeping, the sound of the broom. It was like a sad rhythm trying to drown out Fernanda’s words.
But she didn’t stop. She stood there, looking at me as if waiting for me to feel her way once more to confirm that I wouldn’t dare refuse. When she left, I sat down in a chair and covered my face with my hands. I thought of Luis from the days when he was little and he would run after me in the market,

clutching my skirt and laughing out loud.
Mom, when I grow up, I’m going to build you a nice house. Now he lay there, thin, pale, a shadow of his former self. I wondered if I could let him go without doing anything, but every time I thought about donating my kidney, fear washed over me. Not of the surgery, but of the feeling of it.

that they were pushing me toward something bigger, darker, that I couldn’t see clearly.
That night Fernanda’s parents arrived. They brought a basket of fruit, some mangoes and some oranges, but they just left them on the table as if out of obligation and sat in the two main chairs in the living room as if they were the owners of the house. Her father, Mr. Carlos, coughed a couple of times

and said in a raspy voice.
In my time, parents could sacrifice everything for their children. My grandmother sold all her land to save her son. Now it’s your turn. You have to do the same. Fernanda’s mother, Mrs. Rosa, nodded with a look as sharp as a knife. If you deny yourself, the honor of this family

will be on the floor.
What will the neighbors say? They’ll say she doesn’t love her child, that she doesn’t deserve to be a mother. I sat there, clutching the edge of the table, feeling cornered in a dark corner. I wanted to say something. To ask them why the whole burden fell on me. But I couldn’t open my mouth. I just hung my head.

and nodded slightly like an automaton. Dinner that night was as heavy as a funeral.
Fernanda, with feigned skill, put a piece of chicken on my plate, but her voice was cold like Mom’s. I saved my strength for the surgery. I looked at the chicken on my plate, but I couldn’t swallow. Luis sat across from me with a haggard face and sunken eyes. He tried to smile weakly. Mom, I know that

You’ll save me like all the times you saved me when I was a child.
His words were like a stab in my heart. I remembered the days when he had a high fever and I spent the night awake cleaning him with wet cloths, or the times he fell off his bike and I ran to bandage his wounds. I was always there. I was always the mother willing to do anything.

But this time, why was he so afraid? César sat in a corner of the table, silent as a shadow. He didn’t eat. He just stirred his spoon in his bowl of soup without taking his eyes off Fernanda. I saw his look full of suspicion, as if he were trying to see through Fernanda’s mask.

My daughter-in-law. I wanted to ask her, but I didn’t dare. The air in the room was thick.
Only the clinking of spoons against plates could be heard like hammer blows on my conscience. After dinner, Fernanda got up and personally took Luis’s plate to the kitchen to wash it without letting anyone touch it. She did it quickly, but I noticed she checked the plate very carefully,

as if afraid someone would see something inside.
That night I couldn’t sleep. Lying in my old bed, I listened to the ticking of the clock on the wall. Every second, a reminder that Luis’s time was running out. I got up, walked down the hall to get a glass of water. Then I heard whispers from Fernanda and Luis’s 4th floor. I stopped

Standing in the dark, holding my breath.
Fernanda’s voice was low but clear. Yes. After the transplant, we’ll have all the details. Don’t worry. She won’t dare refuse. I stood there, my heart pounding. My hands were shaking so much I had to lean against the wall to keep from falling. Data.

What were they talking about? I wanted to knock on the door, confront her, but just then Fernanda opened it. She jumped when she saw me and then smiled fakely. “Are you still awake, Mom? I was just calling to ask about his medicine.” I nodded and turned around, but I felt like I’d been stabbed.

Thorns in my heart. Fernanda’s smile. Her voice. Everything was false, like a mask hiding something terrible.
The days that followed the tense conversation with Fernanda and her parents. I felt like I was living in a hazy dream where everything familiar became strange and terrifying. I continued doing my daily tasks. Going to the market to sell, sewing clothes, feeding my husband Juan. But every action was mechanical,

Soulless.
My heart was heavy, as if a black cloud were hanging over my head, and Fernanda’s words and Luis’s pleading gaze swirled around in my mind, not giving me a second of peace. But then, one afternoon, when Mario, my nine-year-old grandson, came home, the first crack appeared in the wall of my house.

confidence I was trying to maintain.
Mario walked in with his mud-stained sneakers and his little hands still sticky from the paint from his art class. He left his old backpack in the corner, sat on the floor, and pulled out the plastic cart I had bought him at the flea market last year. I looked at him, trying to smile, but my mind was a

entanglement. Mario had always been a small light in my dark days, with his innocent stories and his crystalline laugh.
But that day he didn’t smile. He was pushing the cart back and forth on the ground, his gaze lost in thought, and suddenly he raised his head and stared at me. Grandma said in a low but clear voice. What if my dad isn’t sick because of life’s twists and turns, but because someone deliberately gave him medicine?

I jumped as if I’d been slapped.
I almost dropped the spoon in my hand, but I managed to hold it, trembling. “Why are you saying that, Mario?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm, but my heart was pounding. I looked into his eyes, so clear but filled with a concern that seemed too great for his age.

Mario didn’t respond immediately. He lowered his head and continued playing with his car.
But I saw him clench his hand as if it contained something. I wanted to hug him, ask him more, but I only managed to laugh nervously. You think too much, my boy. Your dad is sick and the doctors are treating him. But my smile was forced and Mario didn’t return it. He just looked at me. He stood up in

silence, grabbed his backpack, and ran home.
Mario’s question was like a stone thrown into a still lake in my heart, creating ripples of doubt. I stood there in my small kitchen, staring at the vegetables on the table, but unable to concentrate. I thought of Luis, of the bottles of pills Fernanda always brought, of how she controlled

everything related to my son. I told myself I was probably imagining things.
Fernanda was Luis’s wife. I loved him. I wouldn’t hurt him. But deep down in my heart, I knew something wasn’t right. That afternoon happened. César was carrying his toolbox, saying he was coming to fix the kitchen light that had been flickering the night before.

I saw him climb the ladder, twisting and pushing things, and the light from the new bulb illuminated the entire kitchen. But then, as he came down with the old bulb in his hand, Cesar looked at me with unusual seriousness. Mom said in a low voice, almost a whisper. My sister-in-law is acting very strange. I saw some in my brother’s medicine cabinet.

unlabeled pill bottles, and she hides them very well.
I jumped and dropped the plate I was washing in the sink, splashing water on my blouse. “What are you saying?” I asked, my voice breaking. Cesar came down the ladder and stood in front of me, his eyes full of concern. “Mom, I’m afraid my brother’s illness isn’t normal.”

I’m afraid someone. By the way, she didn’t finish the sentence, but her gaze said it all.
I stood there, my hands wet, feeling as if the ground were sinking beneath my feet. I wanted to scream, to tell César that he was overthinking things, that Fernanda couldn’t do something so terrible. But I couldn’t speak. I just stared at César, Mario’s question in my head.

echoed again. What if my dad is sick because someone gave him medicine? I tried to dismiss that thought, but it clung to me like a shadow I couldn’t escape. The next noon, I took broth to the hospital for Luis.
The white room and the pungent smell of disinfectant made me feel short of breath. Luis was lying down, skinny, with IVs in both arms, but he still tried to smile when he saw me. “Mom, are you home yet?” he said weakly.
I put the bowl on the small table and when I was about to give him the first spoonful, I saw Fernanda next to the bed holding a glass of water. She discreetly dropped a strange-colored pill into the glass. A movement so quick that if I hadn’t been watching closely, I wouldn’t have noticed.

noticed. When I walked in, she jumped and spilled some water on the floor. “What pill is that, Fernanda?” I asked, trying to sound calm. She smiled, but it was forced. “
It’s a kidney supplement. The doctor prescribed it.” I nodded, but a chill ran down my spine. I couldn’t stay calm. After Luis finished eating, I looked for the doctor on call, a middle-aged man with thick glasses. “Doctor.” I asked her in a shaky voice. “Do you

Did they prescribe any new supplements for Luis’s kidneys? He was surprised and checked the file.
No, we haven’t prescribed anything new. His current medication is sufficient. His answer left me frozen. I stood in the hospital hallway listening to the announcements over the loudspeaker, but my mind was blank. Fernanda had lied. What was that pill? Why did she have to hide it?

At dusk, Mario returned to my house.
This time he didn’t play with his car. He sat down on a chair and took an old cell phone out of his backpack with a cracked screen on one corner. Grandma said in a low but firm voice, “I want you to listen to this.” She typed something and handed me the phone. A recording came on. It was Fernanda’s voice whispering but

Clear. After the transplant, the test results will be perfect.
Don’t worry. She won’t dare refuse. I dropped the phone. My hands were shaking uncontrollably. I looked at Mario, my little grandson, and saw that his eyes were red, as if he were as scared as I was. I found it on my mom’s old cell phone. He said, his voice breaking. I don’t know.

which is, but I thought you should know. I hugged Mario, trying to hold back my tears. “
You’re very brave, my boy,” I whispered, but inside everything was falling apart. “Prove results.” What was Fernanda talking about? I thought of Luis. Of the unlabeled bottles, of César’s suspicious look, of the strangely colored pill, of the glass of water. They were loose pieces of a puzzle, but

Little by little, they were falling into place, forming an image I didn’t dare look at head-on.
I didn’t sleep that night. I sat in my silent house, listening to the ticking of the clock. Each second, a reminder that Luis’s time was running out. One morning, I went to the hospital carrying an old plastic container of hot food. The smell of rice and stewed meat escaped around the edges.

Luis’s room was white and cold, and the smell of disinfectant was so strong that I had trouble breathing.
I had grown accustomed to that environment, but that day I felt it pressing on my chest. Luis lay there with sunken eyes and a pale face, but he still tried to smile when he saw me. “Mom, you’re so early!” he said in a voice as weak as a sigh. I put the food on the small table and tried to

smile, but inside a storm was raging.
The doubts of the previous days. Mario’s question. César’s warning. Everything was screaming in my head, giving me no peace. Fernanda was already there, sitting next to Luis’s bed, her gaze fixed on the IV bag that was slowly dripping. She didn’t look at me. She didn’t greet me. She just nodded silently, as if

if my presence were obvious.
On the nightstand, I noticed a small pill bottle with the lid loosely closed, half hidden under a crumpled paper napkin. The bottle had no label. It was just a white plastic tub with some strange blue pills inside. I took it, trying to keep my voice steady.

“What medicine is this, Fernanda?” She jumped. She almost jumped and snatched the bottle out of my hands so fast I took a step back. “They’re just vitamins,” Mom said with a smile as fake as rosette paint. “The doctor prescribed them to help your kidneys.” I nodded, but a

A chill ran down my spine. Fernanda’s smile, the way she snatched the bottle from me.
Everything was wrong, as if she were hiding a secret I wasn’t supposed to know. I sat down next to Luis and began to feed him, but my mind was elsewhere. I was thinking about the unlabeled bottle, about what Cesar said about the strange medicines Fernanda was hiding. I was thinking about Mario, about his

An innocent but pointed question.
What if my dad is sick because someone gave him medicine? I wanted to ask Fernanda right there. I wanted to scream and demand the truth. But I was afraid. Afraid she’d open her mouth. Everything would fall apart and I’d lose Luis forever.
I watched my son struggle to swallow each bite and I told myself, Maria, you have to calm down. You have to figure out what’s going on first. At noon, Cesar arrived at the hospital. He came in with his hands still stained with grease from work and his old T-shirt worn around his shoulders. He didn’t say anything.

Nothing. He just sat silently in a corner, watching Fernanda, who was in the hallway, talking to a nurse. When she left, Cesar approached me and took a small plastic bag out of his backpack.
Mom, I want you to see this. He whispered, his voice as tense as a guitar string. He showed me his phone. On the screen were some blurry photos, but clear enough to make my heart stop. It was Fernanda in the back parking lot of the hospital, discreetly taking

a small bag from the trunk of her car and handing it to an unknown man.
The man was wearing a black jacket and a cap that covered almost his entire face, but I clearly saw the bag of medicine in Fernanda’s hand. Small bottles identical to the one on the nightstand. “I took these photos yesterday,” Cesar said, his voice shaking. “I followed her because it seemed very strange to me.”

It was strange how Mom was acting.
I’m afraid she’s doing something to my brother Luis. I was speechless, gripping the phone so tightly my knuckles turned white. The cold floor of the hospital seemed to suck all the heat out of my body. Cesar, I whispered. Are you sure? Did you hear what they were saying? Cesar shook his head.

head, with red eyes.
I couldn’t hear well, but I saw her give that bag to the man and he handed her an envelope. Mom, this isn’t normal. I looked into Cesar’s eyes. I saw the worry and anger in them and knew he wasn’t lying. But I still didn’t want to believe it. Fernanda was Luis’s wife. She had sworn to take care of him. How could she

Do something so terrible? That afternoon, when I returned home, Mario came again.
He didn’t run or play like always, but sat quietly in a chair, hugging his backpack. Grandma said in a low but determined voice, “I want you to listen to something.” She took her old cell phone with the cracked and trembling screen out of her backpack and played an audio file. Fernanda’s voice echoed,

whispered, but clear as a stab in my heart.
After the transplant, the data will be complete. Don’t worry, that old woman won’t dare refuse. This result is worth 100 times more. I stiffened. I dropped the phone on the table, my hands shaking uncontrollably. I looked at Mario, my little grandson, and saw his red eyes clenched.

lips as if holding back tears.
I found it on my mom’s old cell phone. she said, her voice breaking. I don’t know what it is, but I thought you should know. I hugged Mario, feeling as if the whole world was crumbling around my feet. You’re very brave, Mario, I whispered, but my voice broke and tears rolled down my

cheeks.
I thought of Luis, of the unlabeled jars, of César’s photos, of Mario’s recording. They were loose pieces, but they were fitting together. Painting a dark picture I didn’t dare face. What was Fernanda doing? What data? What results? And why did she say that? That old woman won’t dare

refuse. I felt betrayed, not only by Fernanda, but by my own faith in family, in love.
That night I didn’t sleep. I sat in my silent house listening to the sirens of an ambulance on the street, the red and blue lights flashing through the window like cuts in my soul. I thought about Luis, about how he grew weaker every day, about the strange medicines, about the calculating whispers of

Fernanda.
I thought of Cesar, of the suspicion and worry, of his eyes and of Mario, the nine-year-old boy who had bravely brought me the truth. I grabbed my head, feeling like my brain was going to explode. I wanted to run to the hospital, confront Fernanda, scream, and demand an explanation. But I had

Fear. Fear that the truth was even more horrible than I imagined.
Fear that I wouldn’t have the strength to bear it. I got up, went out to the yard, and looked at the pale moonlight. I thought of Juan, my silent husband, who could only sit and watch everything. I wanted to tell him, to ask him what I should do, but I knew he wouldn’t answer. I was alone with the pieces of a

A truth that was slowly revealing itself.
The next morning I woke up feeling like the whole world was weighing on my chest. The birds singing in the yard. A sound that normally brought me calm now sounded like knives stabbing into my mind. I knew today was the day the hospital would make the final decision about me.

Luis’s kidney transplant.
The clues Mario and César had given me—the recording, the photos, the unlabeled bottle—kept swirling in my head, but I didn’t dare face them. I was afraid that if I dug deeper, I’d find a truth I couldn’t bear. I just wanted to save Luis. To see my son healthy again.

Even if the price was a part of my body. But deep down, I knew things weren’t that simple.
The hospital scheduled me for a noon appointment. I entered a small conference room where Dr. Ramírez was already waiting. He laid out the test results on the table. White sheets filled with numbers and graphs I didn’t understand. Señora María said in a deep but firm voice, “We’ve reviewed everything thoroughly.”

You are the most compatible person to donate your kidney to Luis. If we don’t proceed soon, your life will be in danger.
I sat there clutching the hem of my blouse, my head buzzing as if a swarm of bees were inside me. “I understand,” I whispered, but my voice was so low I doubted he heard me. Dr. Ramírez looked at me, his expression softening. “Do you need more time to think about it?” he asked. I shook my head.

with my head. Not because I had already decided, but because I felt I had no other choice.
Fernanda, her parents, and even Luis. They were all counting on me, and I couldn’t let my son die through the glass of the door. I saw Fernanda standing, arms crossed. Her gaze as sharp as ever, she nodded to her mother, Mrs. Rosa, as if she were sure

that I wouldn’t dare refuse.
That gesture gave me the creeps, as if they were playing a game of chess in which I was only a pawn. I wanted to get up, to shout that I knew about the bottle, about the recording, but I couldn’t. I sat there, feeling trapped in an invisible cage, with no escape. At night I gathered

The whole family in my small house. The living room was crowded. The yellowish light from an old bulb reflected off the worn walls. I placed a teapot on the table.
The scent of mint failed to dissipate the heavy atmosphere. Fernanda’s parents, Mr. Carlos and Mrs. Rosa, sat in the center, occupying the two best chairs as if they were the owners. Fernanda sat next to them with her hands clasped together and looked at me out of the corner of her eye, as if to make sure.

that I wouldn’t regret it.
Luis was leaning back in an armchair, his face pale and his breathing shallow. Cesar was leaning against the wall, silent, but his eyes were red, as if he were holding back a fury about to explode. Mario was huddled in a corner, hugging his small backpack with his eyes full of sadness.

anguish. I took a deep breath. My hands were shaking as I put down the teapot. I’ve made a decision.
I said with a trembling voice, but trying to sound firm. I’m going to donate my kidney to Luis. The room exploded like a bomb. Mrs. Rosa clapped in a shrill voice. That’s a real mother. She knew she wouldn’t let this family down. Fernanda covered her face. Tears were streaming down her face, but I saw

how he clenched his fists as if he were acting in a play.
“Oh, Mom!” he said, his voice breaking. “I knew you loved him more than anyone. Thank you.” Luis looked at me, his eyes clouded with tiredness, but he still managed to say, “Mom, I owe you my life.” His words broke my heart like a stab in the chest. But then Cesar stood up suddenly.

She jumped and hit the table hard.
The blow made the teacups rattle. “No!” she shouted, her voice trembling with rage. “Mom, can’t you see? She’s sacrificing herself for an evil plan. She’s using you, and she’s using my brother Luis.” The air in the room became thick. The only sound was the buzzing of a mosquito.

around the spotlight. Fernanda jumped to her feet and pointed at César.
What are you saying? You dare accuse me? I do everything for my husband. But César didn’t back down. He approached, his gaze blazing. Accuse you. And what are those unlabeled jars and those midnight calls? Mom can’t let herself be fooled. I looked at César, then at Fernanda, and finally at Luis.

I wanted to say something. To ask Cesar to calm down. But I couldn’t.
I just looked away, feeling like the whole world was crashing down on me. That night I sat alone in my small room, in front of the old wooden table. The oil lamp flickered. Its dim light illuminated the trembling words I was writing in my will. I wrote that the little house would be

for César and some of my few valuable things for Mario.
Each stroke was like a cut in my soul. I didn’t know if I would survive the operation, but I wanted to be prepared, to leave something for those I loved. Juan sat motionless in his wheelchair in a corner, staring at me with his lifeless eyes. I saw his hand trembling, as if he wanted to say something, but

I couldn’t.
I looked at him and tears rolled down my cheeks. “Juan, I have to do this, right? I have to save Luis.” He didn’t respond. He just blinked and two tears fell down his gaunt cheeks. I folded the will and put it in the bottom of an old wooden box where I kept my wedding mementos.

Outside, the rain poured down, mingling with the sound of my own sobs.
Early in the morning, when the sky was still dark and fog clung to the narrow streets leading to the hospital, I was lying on an ambulance stretcher. I clutched tightly a small cloth bag containing a couple of changes of clothes and an embroidered handkerchief I had kept since the day I left.

of my wedding. The ambulance siren was wailing, but I wasn’t paying attention anymore.
The streetlights filtered through the window, blurry like my broken dreams. I closed my eyes and tried to breathe, but my chest felt tight. Today was the day I would donate my kidney to Luis, my son. I had already decided. I had written my will. I had mentally prepared myself, but

My heart was still in knots.
As if I were entering a nightmare from which I couldn’t wake up. When the ambulance stopped, a nurse pushed the stretcher down an endless hospital hallway. The squeal of the wheels on the tile floor was like a hammer hitting my head. Fernanda walked right along.

behind.
Her steps were light but firm, like those of a guard. Don’t worry, Mom said in a low but sharp voice after surgery. Everything will be fine. I glanced at her and saw a flash of triumph in her eyes, as if victory was already assured.

Her smile gave me a chill, not from the cold, but from the feeling that I was being led into a plan where I was just a cog without will. Fernanda’s parents, Mr. Carlos and Mrs. Rosa, were already at the reception. They were very dressed up. Mr. Carlos was wearing an old but well-made suit.

ironing, and Mrs. Rosa wearing a bright red dress, as if they were coming to a big event and not a surgery.
They took Fernanda by the arm and greeted the doctors with exaggerated kindness, as if they had known each other their whole lives. I heard Mrs. Rosa laugh out loud as she said to a young doctor, “Thank you for all your support, doctor. We won’t forget this favor.” I stood there, clutching my bag.

of cloth, feeling like a stranger in my own story. Luis had already been taken to a waiting room. I was allowed to see him before entering the operating room.
The small room was freezing, and his skinny arms were full of IVs. His face was pale, his eyes sunken, but when he saw me, he tried to smile weakly. “Mom. Thank you,” he whispered, his voice cracking with exhaustion. I took his hand. It was freezing, and I felt like crying.

Luis, I’ll do everything for your recovery, I told him, but my voice was shaking, as if I was trying to convince myself. I looked into my son’s eyes. I saw absolute trust in them and asked myself, “Am I doing the right thing or am I risking my life for something I don’t fully understand?”

Suddenly, Cesar came running in, his hands still stained with grease from work. He was panting. His shirt was soaked with sweat, as if he’d run a long distance. “
Mom, don’t do this,” he said, almost pleading as he grabbed my shoulders. “I beg you, don’t donate the kidney. Something’s not right.” I looked at Cesar. I saw his red eyes filled with rage and worry. I wanted to tell him that I had already decided I couldn’t let Luis die, but the words wouldn’t come out. Only

I placed my hand over his.
I squeezed it gently and let the nurse lead me away. Cesar stood there, helpless, shouting after my mom, “Listen to me,” but don’t turn around. I didn’t dare turn around because I was afraid that if I looked into Cesar’s eyes, I would collapse. The hospital hallway was long and cold. The smell of disinfectant was

so loud it made me nauseous. An impersonal voice came over the loudspeakers.
Operating room number three. Prepare for kidney transplant. They took me to a dressing room where a nurse put a cap and a mask on me. The cold blue gown they put over me was a reminder that I was about to lose a part of my body. I looked at myself in the mirror. I saw my face.

gaunt, my eyes surrounded by dark circles. I wondered.
Maria, what are you doing? Are you sure this is the right thing to do? But then the image of Luis in the hospital bed appeared in my mind and I gritted my teeth and kept going. As I passed through the hallway, I saw out of the corner of my eye Fernanda and Mrs. Rosa standing by a glass window, talking

with an unknown man.
He was wearing a black jacket and a cap covering his face, identical to the man in the photo Cesar had shown me. I saw Fernanda hand him an envelope, and he quickly put it in his jacket pocket. My heart started pounding. Cold sweat ran down the back of my neck. What were they doing?

What was I doing? What was in that envelope? I wanted to stop, scream, and demand an answer, but the nurse took me by the arm and pulled me into the operating room. The white light shone directly into my eyes.
So bright that I had to close them. Dr. Ramirez stood there, his face serious but calm. “Everything is ready, Mrs. Maria,” he said in a deep voice. “Just relax.” I nodded. But my body was stiff. The nurse placed the electrodes on my chest, and the beep-beep of the monitor sounded.

constant, but each heartbeat was like a warning. Fernanda appeared on the other side of the glass.
She pressed her face to the glass and quickly signed the papers she was holding for another nurse. I took the pen, trembling. The ink bled onto the paper. When I signed, I felt as if I was signing my own death warrant. I looked at my blurred signature. I thought of the will I had

written the night before in César, in Mario.
And I wondered. Will this be the last time I’m conscious? Just as the doctor was preparing to inject the anesthesia, my heart was beating furiously. A cold sweat was soaking my back. I closed my eyes. I tried to breathe. But images of Luis César, Mario, and Fernanda kept swirling in my head.

head. I thought of Mario’s recording on the unlabeled bottle. Of Cesar’s photo.
I wanted to stop it all, but I couldn’t. I’d gone too far. I’d signed. I’d entered this room. I could only stand there, waiting with a fear that choked my heart. But then, just as the nurse was about to inject the anesthetic, a loud bang shook the entire room.

The door burst open. The creaking of hinges rent the air.
The entire team of doctors and nurses jumped. Some turned sharply, panic in their eyes. Mario burst in like a small whirlwind. His sneakers were still stained with mud. His school uniform was wrinkled, and his little chest was rising and falling as he panted. He held his

an old cell phone, its screen cracked, as if it were the most valuable thing in the world.
A nurse ran after him, screaming desperately. Kid, you can’t come in here. Oh my God, stop! But Mario didn’t stop. He ran straight toward me, his big, round eyes full of fear, but burning with a determination I’d never seen in a child.

Grandma said in a trembling voice, but so clear it froze everyone in the room. I should tell everyone why my dad really needs your kidney. Her words were like a bomb exploding in my head. I held my breath. My heart seemed to stop. The operating room fell silent.

Absolute, broken only by the beep-beep of the heart monitor, which was now louder, as if trying to shatter the stillness.
A nearby doctor dropped a pair of surgical forceps. The metallic sound against the marble floor was shrill, like a cut in the tense air. Dr. Ramirez, the head of surgery, raised a hand signaling the entire team to stop. He frowned, but his voice was calm and firm.

Let the boy speak. Whatever you have to say, say it now. I looked at Mario.
I saw his little hand clutching the cell phone, his pale face, but his eyes shining, as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Get out!” Behind the glass, Fernanda banged furiously on the door, making the pane rattle. “Don’t listen to him!” she shouted in a shrill, almost hysterical voice. “He’s just a

The boy you’re going to see.
But Fernanda’s gaze was no longer as cold as ice. She was trembling with panic, as if the secret she had tried so hard to hide was about to come to light. Mario didn’t look at his mother. He approached me and with trembling hands, pressed play on his cell phone. A recording was heard. The voice of

Fernanda, whispered but clear as a knife stabbing into my heart.
After the transplant, the test results will be perfect. Don’t worry, that old woman won’t dare refuse. The entire room seemed to explode into silence. I felt my blood run cold, my breath catch in my throat. Dr. Ramírez turned sharply to look at me with his

eyes wide open, full of astonishment.
“Stop!” he ordered in a voice as sharp as a scalpel. “Stop all preparations right now!” A nurse quickly withdrew the syringe. The others stood motionless, not daring to move. Fernanda, on the other side of the glass, let out a scream and banged on the door. “Isn’t that right? She did.”

She made it all up. This kid is being manipulated.
But her voice cracked as if she didn’t even believe her words. I looked at Mario and saw that he’d burst into tears, but he was still clutching his phone as if it were the last straw to save me. I also have a video. He said with the muffled voice of my mom and my grandparents talking about selling medicine. He pressed play.

a video. The image was blurry, but clear enough.
Fernanda and Mrs. Rosa in the parking lot, exchanging an envelope with the unknown man I had seen earlier. Mrs. Rosa’s voice was heard. After this operation, we will have enough data to sell the medicine abroad. This money will change everything. I lay

There, my vision blurred by tears, feeling a mixture of horror and relief.
Horror at the truth I had tried so hard to avoid. Now exposed to everyone, and relief because I finally didn’t have to lie to myself anymore. César burst in from the hallway, his face red with anger. “Enough!” he shouted, throwing himself against the glass door to face Fernanda. “You

You poisoned her. You thought we were all blind. Before anyone could react.
Cesar raised his hand and slapped Fernanda. The sharp sound echoed throughout the hallway, making Mrs. Rosa scream. You dare hit my daughter? But Cesar didn’t stop. He pointed at Fernanda, his voice trembling with rage. What medicine have you been giving her? What did you do to my

Brother Luis? Fernanda put her hand to her cheek.
Tears were running down her face, but in her eyes I saw not regret, only the panic of someone who has been found out. Are you crazy? she shouted, turning to Dr. Ramírez. Don’t listen to them. They’re slandering me. But Dr. Ramírez didn’t respond. He turned pale and went to a

Nurse.
This isn’t surgery anymore. It’s a crime scene. Call the police now! A nurse ran outside while the others stood there, staring at each other in bewilderment. I lay there, feeling like the world was falling apart. Tears were rolling down my cheeks, but I couldn’t tell.

What? I looked at Mario, my little grandson, who had bravely burst into the operating room to save me.
I looked at César, my youngest son, who had tried to protect me at all costs. And I thought of Luis, my son, who lay in the next room, unaware that the wife he trusted had betrayed him. I stood there, letting the tears flow, letting the truth seep into every fiber.

of my being.
At that moment I understood that everything had changed. The truth had burst forth like a broken-down door, and nothing could hide it anymore. The operating room, which had once been cold and silent, had become a chaotic battlefield. The confused nurses looked at each other, unsure of what to do.

what to do.
Dr. Ramirez frowned. His sharp gaze swept over each person as if trying to maintain order in the midst of a storm. I lay there, my vision blurred by tears, but unable to tear my eyes away from the scene. The truth that Mario had just revealed like fire. I was

burning all the confidence I had left.
Fernanda, after Cesar’s slap, grabbed her cheek and screamed in a shrill voice. How dare you hit me? I do everything for my husband. Tears streamed down her face, but I clearly saw the panic in her eyes. It wasn’t the pain of a wife wrongly accused, but the fear of someone who has

been discovered. She turned to her parents, grabbing Mrs. Rosa’s blouse, her voice breaking.
I didn’t do anything wrong. I just wanted to save Luis. Dad! Mom! Say something. But Mr. Carlos and Mrs. Rosa stood there pale-faced, unable to say a word. Mrs. Rosa, normally so shrewd and authoritative, now just clenched her hands, biting her lip to

I couldn’t contain a shiver.
Suddenly, Mrs. Rosa struck the floor with her cane. The sharp sound of wood against tile echoed and pointed directly at me. You dared manipulate your grandson into making up lies about me? You wicked old Fernanda. Her words were like a stab in my heart.

I wanted to scream, to tell her that I hadn’t manipulated anyone, that it was her daughter who had betrayed my family. But there was a lump in my throat and I couldn’t speak. I just stood there, staring at her, feeling cornered in a dark corner where all my years of sacrifice were being trampled on.

Mr. Carlos, Fernanda’s father, whispered discreetly to a familiar doctor standing nearby, his voice low but hurried.
Please continue with the surgery. We’ll take care of everything. We just need this to be over with. He thrust an envelope into the doctor’s hand, but Dr. Ramirez immediately approached, his voice as cold as ice. The law decides here, not money. He snatched the envelope from him, threw it to the floor, and

ordered a nurse.
Close the doors. No one leaves. I’m going to inform the hospital management right now. The sound of their footsteps was firm as a declaration that everything had gotten out of control. Cesar, from the hallway, burst into the operating room, ignoring a nurse’s attempts to stop him.

He grabbed my shoulders with red eyes and shouted, “Mom, don’t donate your kidney.
It’s all a plan of theirs. She poisoned my brother. Can’t Luis see that?” Cesar’s voice trembled, filled with rage and pain. I looked into his eyes and saw the desperation of a son trying to protect his mother. I wanted to say something, to comfort him, but I couldn’t. I just stood there, feeling like the world was turning.

crumbled beneath my feet.
From the preparation room next door, Luis’s weak and confused voice sounded. “What’s going on? Why are you arguing?” He tried to sit up, breathing heavily. The IVs in his arm shook with the movement. I heard my son’s voice, and my heart broke into a thousand pieces. Luis

I knew nothing. I didn’t know that the wife I loved, whom I trusted, had drawn the entire family into a dark conspiracy.
I wanted to run to him, hug him, and tell him everything would be okay. But I couldn’t move. I just lay there with tears streaming down my face, feeling torn between my love for Luis and the horrible truth that had just come to light. Mario, standing beside me, burst into uncontrollable tears, but still

He picked up his cell phone and said in a muffled voice, “I have another video.
This is when my mom gives my grandparents their medicine.” He played the video, and the image appeared on the small screen. Fernanda and Mrs. Rosa were in the parking lot, making the exchange with the unknown man. Mrs. Rosa’s voice came through clearly and coldly.

If the transplant is a success, we’ll be able to sell the medicine abroad. With that money, we’ll be able to launder all the dirty profits. The entire room fell silent. A nurse covered her mouth, her eyes wide with horror. Dr. Ramírez froze, clutching the file.

as if containing her anger. Fernanda, panicking, lunged to snatch Mario’s cell phone, trying to throw it to the floor.
No, that’s false! She screamed, her voice breaking. But Cesar was faster. He snatched the cell phone and pushed Fernanda, who fell to the ground. One of her heels flew out, bouncing off the floor with a sharp sound like the final point of the farce she had staged. “Shut your mouth!” Cesar shouted with his face.

Red with fury.
Do you think you can fool everyone? What did you do to my brother? Fernanda sat on the floor with her hair disheveled, but her gaze still held a glimmer of stubbornness. I didn’t do anything. You’re slandering me. Hospital security appeared. Two men in uniform

They entered with serious expressions. They approached Fernanda,
Mr. Carlos, and Mrs. Rosa. Without giving them time to react. Mrs. Rosa continued cursing with her cane, trembling in her hand. “Traitor! You destroyed this family,” she pointed at me, but her voice broke as if she herself knew it was all over. Fernanda held on firmly.

He was writhing. Let me go! I didn’t do anything wrong.
But his gaze now reflected only the desperation of someone cornered. I lay there, motionless, my body frozen, but with my eyes wide open, watching the truth unfold before me. When the operating room door closed behind the police, the screams of Fernanda and her parents were still

echoed in the hospital hallway.
But for me, they faded into the air like a dissipating nightmare. Fernanda continued screaming, her voice breaking. She was contributing to science. No one understood me, but no one answered her. Mr. Carlos and Mrs. Rosa, who had once sat so arrogantly in my living room,

Now they walked with their heads bowed, escorted in silence.
I lay on the operating table, still trembling, but no longer from fear. A strange feeling of relief flooded me, as if I had been released from a cage I hadn’t known I was locked in. Dr. Ramírez approached. His face was serious, but his gaze had softened.

Maria said in a grave voice. We’re canceling the surgery. We’ll transfer Luis to an alternative treatment.
Dialysis combined with new medications. You’ve risked your health preparing for this, but you’ve saved his life and his dignity. I looked at him. Tears were rolling down my cheeks, but I didn’t know what they were. What? Thank you, doctor. I whispered in a weak but sincere voice. I didn’t know if I had really saved him.

my dignity, but I knew that for the first time in months, I felt like I was breathing again, really breathing. Cesar ran to me and helped me sit up.
He held my hand tightly. His gaze was firm but filled with pain. He still has me, Mom, he said, his voice breaking. I’m going to protect her. From now on, I promise. I squeezed his hand, feeling the warmth of his rough, grease-stained skin. I looked into Cesar’s eyes and saw the strength

of a son willing to carry the whole world to protect his mother.
You are my pride, son. I whispered and the tears fell again. Cesar said nothing. He just hugged me tightly. And in that hug I found a little comfort amidst the ruins of my family. Luis was moved to a recovery room. When I entered, he was lying with a pale face and

IVs still in his arms.
He looked at me with red eyes and asked in a weak voice, “Mom, is it true that everything my wife did was to hurt me?” His question was like a stab in my heart. I walked over, sat next to him on the bed, and hugged him. My tears fell, wetting his hospital gown. “Oh, Luis, my son!”

I said, my voice choked. I don’t know where all this started, but I promise I won’t let anyone hurt you again.
Luis bowed his head. Tears rolled down his thin cheeks. “Mom, I was wrong,” he whispered. “I didn’t protect you and I let you suffer too much.” I hugged him tighter, feeling like there were only the two of us left in the world, clinging to each other in the midst of the storm that had just passed.

In the following days, newspapers began to cover the news, Drug Trafficking Network Dismantled at Local Hospital, they shouted. The headlines wrote about a group of doctors and pharmacists involved in which Fernanda, Mr. Carlos and Mrs. Rosa were key players.

been testing illegal drugs on patients like Luis, using the kidney transplant as a smokescreen to collect data for an international organization.
Reading those words filled me with horror and pain. I thought of Fernanda, of the times she served me food in her sweet words that I now knew were false. I thought of Luis, of the months he suffered without knowing that his own wife was putting him in danger. Luis began his dialysis treatment and

medication.
His health improved slowly but steadily. One afternoon he took my hand, bowed his head, and said in a broken voice, “Mom, I was blind. I trusted Fernanda and almost let you lose everything.” I stroked his head like I did when I was a child and said, “Son, the important thing is that you’re still here.”

That’s all I need.
But in my heart, a scar had formed not only because of Fernanda’s betrayal, but because she had allowed me to be pushed to the brink between life and death without asking questions. I returned to my small house where Juan remained motionless in his wheelchair. I sat down beside him and told him everything, from the

Mario’s recording until the scene of Fernanda being handcuffed.
I don’t know if he understood everything, but when I finished speaking I saw him blink and two tears rolled down his gaunt cheeks. I took his hand, squeezed it, and for the first time in years I felt a small response from him. A weak squeeze. As if he was trying to tell me that he understood. I burst into tears, not

pain, but because I knew that, despite everything, I still had him.
I still had my family. Mario became the little hero of the neighborhood. The day he came home, he ran up to me, hugged me by the neck and whispered, Grandma, sorry I took so long to talk, but at least I got here in time to save you. I laughed through my tears, hugging the boy, feeling the warmth of his

small body.
You’re the bravest person I know, I said, returning his hair. Mario smiled, the first smile I’d seen from him in days. I looked into his eyes and saw that his innocence was still there, though tainted by what he’d had to witness. I promised myself to protect Mario, to give him a childhood that

No one could steal from him.
Last night I sat in my small room by the flickering light of the oil lamp. I opened my old diary and wrote the last lines. Blood doesn’t always make you family. Sometimes it’s the truth that shows you who truly deserves to be called that. I lost so much, but I found myself

myself. I closed the journal, put down my pen, and listened to the rain hitting the roof of the courtyard.
I felt a strange calm, as if the storm had passed, leaving a clear sky. I looked out the window. I saw the pale moonlight illuminating the courtyard and knew that even if the road ahead was long, I would never let myself be blinded again. I had regained my own strength, and that was the most valuable thing I

No one could take me away.
The story you just heard has been modified in names and locations to protect the identity of the people involved. We tell this not 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 place.
What would you do? Would you choose to remain silent to keep the peace? Or would you dare to face everything to regain your voice? 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 days

The best.
In the meantime, on the final screen, I’ll leave you with two of the channel’s most beloved stories. I’m sure they’ll surprise you. Thank you for staying with me until this point.