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MidReal Story
El Fin De Un Matrimonio
Scenario:María y Juan han estado casados por 10 años, pero María siente que la relación ya no es funcional y ha decidido poner fin al matrimonio. No existe violencia, infidelidad ni ninguna otra causa específica, simplemente María ya no desea continuar con el vínculo matrimonial.
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María Ramírez
first_person_protagonist, female. She is a woman navigating a deteriorating marriage. She is introspective, determined, and emotionally resilient. After ten years of marriage to Juan, she realizes she no longer loves him and decides to leave the marriage for her own happiness. This decision causes tension and conflict with Juan, who struggles to accept her choice. María reflects on her past and the changes in her life, leading to a new chapter of selfdiscovery.
Ana Ramírez
side_character, female. She is María's younger sister working as a nanny in New York. She is supportive, lively, and outspoken. When María visits her in New York, Ana encourages her sister to take charge of her life and move forward after leaving the marriage. Ana offers emotional support and practical advice, emphasizing the need for María to find happiness beyond her failed marriage. Her personality contrasts with María's introspection, bringing humor and determination.
Juan Ramírez
side_character, male. He is María's husband of ten years, working as a mechanic in their hometown. He is traditional, stubborn, and emotionally closed off. When María chooses to end their marriage, he is devastated and tries to persuade her to stay. Juan views his family and community ties as crucial and fails to see the marriage's deterioration from his perspective. He wants to save the marriage, highlighting his deep attachment and desire for stability.
María and Juan had been married for ten years.
They got married when they were both twenty-two years old.
There was no cheating, no violence, nothing that normally causes a marriage to end in divorce.
The only reason María wanted a divorce was because she didn't love him anymore.
She was done, she was tired, she was over it.
She had given her all to the marriage, and now she was done.
María and Juan were from the same town.
They both knew each other's families.
In fact, María's younger sister Ana was married to Juan's older brother Pedro.
Pedro and Ana had moved to New York about five years ago.
Pedro worked as an accountant and Ana worked as a nanny.
María had gone to visit them about six months ago.
While there, Ana had encouraged María to take charge of her life and make some changes.
If she wasn't happy, then maybe it was time to move on and start fresh.
María thought long and hard about what Ana had said to her.
She realized that she didn't love Juan anymore, that she was just going through the motions of being a wife.
She made the decision that she wanted a divorce.
Once she made the decision, she knew she would have to tell Juan at some point.
She waited until they were in their bedroom getting ready for bed.
I sit on the edge of our bed, watching Juan fold his work clothes.
The familiar scent of motor oil clings to his uniform.
My hands grip the bedspread, steadying myself.
Juan continues his routine, hanging each item with precision in the closet.
The bedroom feels smaller than usual, the walls closing in as I gather my courage.
He turns to me, his expression neutral, unaware of what's coming.
The ceiling fan whirs overhead, marking the seconds of silence.
My throat tightens as I force the words out.
I watch Juan methodically fold his work uniform, the familiar scent of motor oil filling our small bedroom.
The evening light casts long shadows across the floral bedspread I'm gripping.
My throat tightens as I rehearse the words in my mind one last time.
The ceiling fan whirs overhead, its steady rhythm matching my heartbeat.
Juan places the folded clothes in his dresser drawer, the metal handle squeaking as he closes it.
He turns to me with tired eyes, probably expecting our usual discussion about bills or weekend plans.
I straighten my back against the headboard, my fingers still twisted in the fabric.
"Juan, we need to talk about our future together," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
The words feel heavy in my mouth, each syllable a struggle.
Juan's expression changes from confusion to concern as he notices my rigid posture and trembling fingers.
He takes a step closer, his work-roughened hand reaching for mine, but I pull away, placing my hands in my lap.
The mattress dips under his weight as he sits beside me, the familiar scent of motor oil and his aftershave filling my nostrils.
His eyes lock onto mine, searching for answers.
I take a deep breath, the air thick with tension.
"We've been married for ten years," I begin, my voice cracking.
"But I don't feel the same way anymore."
The words spill out in a rush, like a dam breaking.
"I don't love you like I used to. I'm tired of pretending."
The room falls silent except for the whir of the ceiling fan above us.
Juan's face is a mask of confusion and shock.
"Is there someone else?" he asks, his voice barely concealing the hurt.
"No, it's not about anyone else," I reply, shaking my head.
"Then why now, María? Why after all these years?" he presses, desperation creeping into his tone.
"I don't know," I admit, my voice cracking.
"I just feel like we've grown apart. We're just going through the motions now."
The room falls silent again, the tension thickening.
Juan's eyes are filled with a mix of sadness and anger.
He stands up, his movements jerky as he paces back and forth across the bedroom.
"We can work through this, María," he says, his voice rising.
"We've been through tough times before. We can get through this too."
I watch him pace, his movements becoming more agitated by the minute.
"Juan, I've made up my mind," I say, my voice firm.
"I want a divorce."
The room falls silent again, the only sound the ticking of the clock on the bedside table.
Juan stops pacing and turns to me, his eyes filled with desperation.
"María, please reconsider," he begs.
"We have so much to lose. Our families will be devastated. What about our home? Our life together?"
I shake my head, my heart heavy with regret.
"I'm sorry, Juan. But I can't keep pretending."
He kneels down beside me, his hands grasping mine tightly.
"Please, María. Don't do this. We can work through this together."
I gently pull away from him and stand up, walking to the dresser where I've hidden the divorce papers in the bottom drawer.
I retrieve the envelope and turn to him, my heart pounding in my chest. "I'm sorry, Juan," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
"But it's over between us."
He looks at me with pleading eyes.
"Please don't do this," he begs.
"It's not too late to change your mind."
I shake my head firmly.
"It's too late for that," I reply firmly.
"I've made up my mind."
He snatches the envelope from my hands and tears it in half.
"You can't do this to me," he yells, his face red with anger.
"You're just being selfish and cruel."
I stand there frozen in shock as he continues to rant and rave.
I sit at the kitchen table the next morning, my hands wrapped around a cold cup of coffee.
Juan left for work without speaking to me, the torn divorce papers scattered across the bedroom floor.
I gather the pieces, smoothing them on the table.
My lawyer's office opens in an hour.
I check my phone - three missed calls from Ana, probably worried after my text about Juan's reaction.
The clock ticks as I stuff the torn papers in my purse, grab my car keys, and head for the door.
I walk into the courthouse, my heels clicking against the marble floor as I approach the civil court clerk's window.
The new divorce papers feel heavy in my leather briefcase - pristine copies to replace the ones Juan destroyed.
Behind the glass partition, a clerk with graying hair takes my documents, checking each page methodically.
My hands shake slightly as I sign where indicated, but my signature remains steady.
When she asks if I want to schedule the preliminary hearing, I nod and watch her type the date into the computer.
I leave the courthouse, the weight of finality settling over me like a quiet storm.
I sit in my car outside the courthouse, staring at my phone screen displaying Ana's number.
The leather seat creaks as I shift, turning down the AC that's been blasting since I left.
My finger hovers over the call button while I organize my thoughts about the hearing date, now set for three weeks from today.
The clock on my dashboard reads 2:15 PM - early enough to catch Ana between her nanny duties.
I press call and listen to it ring, clutching the court documents in my lap.
When Ana's cheerful voice answers, I take a deep breath and begin sharing the details of what just happened at the courthouse.
"Ana, it's done," I say, my voice steady.
"The divorce papers are filed."
Ana's voice is filled with concern on the other end of the line.
"María, how are you doing? Did Juan give you any trouble?"
I sigh, remembering the confrontation earlier.
"He was upset, but I stood firm. It's over between us."
Ana's voice softens.
"I'm so sorry, María. I know how much you loved him."
I swallow hard, trying to keep my emotions in check.
"It doesn't matter anymore. What matters is moving forward."
There's a pause on the other end of the line before Ana speaks again.
"María, have you thought about what happens next? Where will you live? How will you support yourself?"
I park outside our local bank, gripping the list of joint accounts to separate.
The morning sun reflects off the building's glass doors as other customers file in and out.
Inside, I approach a young clerk who types our account details into her computer.
She explains the process of dividing our shared savings, checking, and credit cards.
When she asks for Juan's signature on the forms, I explain we're divorcing.
Her professional demeanor slips for a moment, showing pity, before she hands me a stack of papers.
I glance at the papers, feeling the weight of each decision.
"Juan won't be signing anything," I tell her, my voice firm.
She nods, understanding, and replies softly, "We'll proceed with just your signature then."