I looked for my mom.
She wasn’t in her room.
Something felt wrong.
So I walked toward the backyard.
Toward the area near the dog kennel.
And that’s when my world stopped.
My mother was sitting on the cold concrete floor.
Her clothes were torn.
Her hands were shaking.
She was crying… while trying to eat a plate of leftover rice mixed with chicken bones.
Chicken bones.
Like scraps.
Like she didn’t matter.
Like she wasn’t human.
Standing in front of her—
was my wife.
Holding a glass of wine.
Watching her.
Judging her.
“Eat it faster, you old woman!” Victoria snapped, her voice sharp and cruel, while her friends stood nearby laughing.
“I told you—you’re not allowed inside when I have guests! You smell! You smell like poverty! I don’t want my friends knowing I married into a pathetic family!”
My mother trembled.
“I-I’m sorry… Victoria… I was just hungry… I went into the kitchen…”
Her voice was small.
Broken.
Like this wasn’t the first time.
“You’re sleeping in the dog house tonight!” Victoria shouted.
