I booked a private island to save my marriage… but my husband came with his mother and ex and made me serve them as if I were his servant.
—You are going to cook and clean while we enjoy the beach, Mariana. That’s also what a wife is for.
The phrase came out of my husband’s mouth in the middle of the private dock in Cancun, in front of his parents, in front of his ex-girlfriend and in front of the captain who was waiting to take us by seaplane to a private island that I had reserved for our anniversary.
I stood still, sunglasses still in my hand and my heart pounding as if it wanted to pop out of my chest.
There had been five years of marriage to Rodrigo Salvatierra. Five years in which he showed off expensive watches, dinners in Polanco, Italian shirts and luxury cars, while everyone believed he was a successful man. The truth was different: the cybersecurity company that paid for that life was mine. I had built it from a small apartment in the Del Valle neighborhood, sleeping three hours, rejecting parties, enduring debts and ridicule until it became a million-dollar firm.
Rodrigo worked as a manager in an import company, but his salary did not even pay for the gasoline for the car he drove.
Still, I still believed I could save our marriage.
Therefore, for our fifth anniversary, I booked a week on a private island in the Mexican Caribbean: villa with chef, full staff, exclusive beach, seaplane transportation and total privacy. It cost $150,000. I did it because Rodrigo had been telling me for months that I was cold, that my company had turned me into a woman “homeless in the head”, that he needed a wife more present.
I wanted to believe him.
One night before the trip, I gave him the itinerary in a black envelope with gold letters.
—It’s for the two of us —I told him—. No meetings, no calls, no distractions. Just you and me.
Rodrigo barely looked up from his cell phone.
—I hope there is good internet —he responded—. I can’t disappear just because you’re to blame.
It hurt, but I swallowed my pride.
The next day I arrived at the dock thirty minutes late due to an emergency at the company. I expected to see him alone, maybe upset, maybe impatient. But not.
Rodrigo was there with his mother, Doña Graciela; his father, Don Ernesto; and Valeria, his ex-girlfriend from college, dressed in a white linen dress as if she were the main guest.
Valeria touched his arm with confidence.
Doña Graciela looked me up and down, as always.
—It’s good that you arrived —Rodrigo said—. I invited my parents and Valeria. She is going through a difficult time. Plus, the island is huge.
—Did you invite your ex to our anniversary? —I asked, throat closed.
He smiled annoyed.
