“No one is stepping into my house today… because I already know exactly what you were planning to do to me.”
I said it calmly, without raising my voice, sitting in front of a cup of coffee at a small restaurant in the plaza, while on my phone screen I watched my furious mother-in-law standing outside my gate.
Just a minute earlier, Ofelia had been shouting from outside my country house on the outskirts of Atlixco:
“Why is the gate locked?!”
Then my husband called, irritated—as if the problem were mine.
