On the long walk home, Dolores didn’t curse her son. Instead, she told herself he must truly be struggling. “He’s busy… at least he gave me something to eat,” she muttered, convincing herself it was his way of caring.
When she reached her small wooden house, she placed the noodles on the table. Hungry and exhausted, she decided to cook them. But as she opened the package, she froze – her hands trembling. Inside, beneath the noodles, was a sealed white envelope.
Her heart pounded as she tore it open. Inside were 50,000 pesos in crisp bills and a folded note written in haste:
“Mom, forgive me for lying. I didn’t want my wife to know that I was afraid she’d think I favor my family. Please use this for your surgery. I love you more than I can say. Your unworthy son, Ramón.”
Dolores’ knees gave way, and tears streamed down her cheeks, blurring the words. Every drop carried a mix of relief, love, and forgiveness. Her son’s silence, she realized, had never meant indifference—it was fear, hidden beneath the weight of pride and circumstance.
The Miracle
The next morning, Dolores went to the hospital and handed over the money. The surgery was showed successfully. When she awoke, weak but alive, the first thing she saw was Ramón, sitting beside her bed, his eyes red and swollen.
“Mom,” he muttered, voice breaking. “I’m so sorry. That day… I was scared of what my wife would say. I should never have treated you that way.”
Dolores smiled faintly, her frail hand covering his.
“Son, a mother never stays angry. Money can be earned again, but a mother’s heart, once broken, can never be replaced.”
Ramón broke down in tears, laying his head on her hand like a child. Outside, sunlight filtered through the hospital window, warm and golden—just like forgiveness.
Epilogue
See more on the next page
Advertisement
<
See more on the next page
Advertisement
