When she was only eighteen, her parents made their choice without even telling her. After the wedding ceremony, something happened that gave her the chills.
It was a cold, cloudy March night when Laura was born. The house smelled like anxiety, roses, and pork pie. Despite the fact that relatives had gathered around the large oak table, the birthday girl felt alone in her own home.
When Roberto, Laura’s father, raised his glass and drank to “a secure and prosperous future,” Laura comprehended everything. She had a husband already.
She married Markus Deylen, a strong man about twenty years her senior, a few days later. He treated her more like property than a wife and was cold and distant. Before the wedding, he barely spoke to her, and he never asked her opinion again after the wedding.
The house behind the high railings felt like a luxurious prison. She was not allowed to go into the city alone. They looked at her phone. She had to hide her diaries under the floorboards of the bedroom.
Laura remained silent. All the way to that awful night.
About a month after the wedding, she heard sobbing when the home was darkened. From a part of the home she was not permitted to enter, she could hear a child’s crying. Her curiosity triumphed over her dread.
Slipping along the dark hallway, she gently opened a door. At what she saw, she froze.
The room included an old wooden crib. There was a tiny girl inside, no more than a year old.
She cried a little, exhausted. Laura arrived gradually to comfort her. As she adjusted the small cushion, she sensed something underneath it.
It was a folded piece of paper. The handwriting, which was clearly that of a woman, was readable despite its trembling:
If you are reading this, that means Markus is still lying. I am his first wife. I had to leave our daughter behind since there was no other option. He was like a possession to me. If your heart is compassionate, don’t let this child grow up fearful. Please.
Laura’s heart changed in some way. That that evening, she made a decision. Two days later, she left the house with the child in her arms, along with some documents and other belongings.
She went to live with her aunt Elena in a little coastal village in Spain. That was where her new life began.
At the age of 56, Laura operated a little bakery. The girl from the nursery, Naia, was a pleasant, cheerful young woman who lived close by. When Naia called Laura “Mom,” they were very thrilled.
Laura never married anybody else. She was not required to. She had found peace of mind, independence, and true love—things that money cannot buy.
Her tale would be heard by women who believed it was too late to make a change. Then she would smile and say:
— You are always able to save yourself.
