Scenario:Una pareja crea un negocio de destilado de alcohol, pero por cuestiones legales, el matrimonio debe disolverse, porque el esposo es un cabron y un machista misojino y se llama David
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Una pareja crea un negocio de destilado de alcohol, pero por cuestiones legales, el matrimonio debe disolverse, porque el esposo es un cabron y un machista misojino y se llama David
Sophie Patterson
resilient, and pragmatic. Sophie faced a difficult marriage with David due to his controlling and misogynistic behavior. She struggled with the fact that her parents were unable to afford her education, whereas David's entire family benefited from government subsidies. After years of marriage, she decided to end it, gaining independence and freedom.
Caleb
approachable, and supportive. Caleb provided Sophie with valuable advice and assistance during her most vulnerable time. Although he came from a similar background to David, Caleb seemed more openminded and willing to question traditions. His relationship with Sophie remained cordial even after the dissolution of her marriage to David.
David
controlling, and traditional. David insisted on maintaining oldfashioned marriage laws and showed disdain for Sophie's intentions of leaving him. He was unwilling to compromise and wanted to keep control over the distillery they built together. His actions led to their eventual separation when Sophie sought legal freedom from an abusive relationship.
I married him because it was the only way for me to stay in the country.
At first, I thought things would be okay.
I mean, he was nice enough and had given me a large stone house on his family's ranch.
I didn't love him, but I didn't hate him either.
But slowly, I started realizing that he wasn't like everyone else I had met in this country.
He came from a wealthy family and had inherited his father’s ranch, but somehow he thought he was better than everyone else just because his parents were married when he was born.
It didn’t matter that his family had built their fortune on bootlegged whiskey during prohibition and then sold distilled alcohol on the black market.
It didn’t matter that they had only become legitimate after the war, or that they still owned a few distilleries that operated on permits from before prohibition.
No, to him none of that mattered.
What mattered was that his family wasn’t poor, and his parents weren’t bastards, unlike me and my siblings.
My parents couldn't afford my education, whereas his entire family benefited from government subsidies given to the owners of large ranches.
After another of David's condescending lectures about my family background during dinner, I retreated to my study and pulled out a leather-bound journal from my desk drawer.
My hands shook as I wrote down today's date and began documenting his exact words, including how he mocked my mother's unmarried status.
I noted the time, his tone of voice, and how he slammed his fist on the table when I tried to defend myself.
The writing helped calm my nerves, but I startle when I hear his boots in the hallway.
"Are you writing about me again, Clara?" David's voice was smooth, but there was an edge to it that made my skin crawl.
"Just jotting down some thoughts," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.
"You know, if you're going to keep a record, maybe you should include how lucky you are to be here at all."
"David, I'm just trying to process things," I said, my voice shaking slightly.
"Maybe you should focus on how lucky you are to have me here at all," he retorted, his voice dripping with condescension.
"I'm not some charity case. I have a life, a family, and dreams."
"Your family?" he scoffed.
"You mean the one that can't even afford your education?"
"That's not the point," I snapped, my patience wearing thin.
"The point is that I'm here now, and I deserve respect."
"Respect?" he repeated, his voice rising.
"You want respect? You're lucky I don't throw you out on the streets where you belong."
He stormed out of the room, leaving me trembling.
I sat at my desk, unable to continue writing in my journal.
The house phone's shrill ring pierced the silence.
I hesitated, knowing David hated when I answered calls without his permission, but something compelled me to reach for the receiver.
"Hello?"
A woman's voice greeted me from the other end of the line.
"Hello, Clara? This is Dr. Martinez from the International Arts Foundation. I hope I'm not interrupting anything important."
"No, no, it's fine," I replied, my hands growing clammy as I held the receiver.
"We've reviewed your application for our fully-funded residency program in Barcelona. We're pleased to inform you that you've been selected." My heart skipped a beat as I heard her words.
I had secretly applied for this program months ago, and now it was finally happening.
I was going to Barcelona!
But before I could respond, David's heavy footsteps echoed down the hall once again.
"I'm sorry, Dr. Martinez," I whispered quickly into the phone.
"I'll call you back tomorrow."
I hung up just as David entered the room, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.
"Who was that?" he demanded, crossing his arms.
"Just a telemarketer," I lied, my heart pounding in my chest.
