The house was quiet, but only superficially. The wedding had barely ended, and Mrs. Reyes had collapsed into bed, exhausted from hosting, cleaning, and supervising a celebration that had drained every ounce of energy from her body. Sleep, when it came, was shallow and fleeting. By 5 a.m., she was awake again, confronted by a house still demanding attention. Dust lingered on surfaces, the kitchen remained greasy from cooking, and crumbs and stains bore silent witness to the previous day’s chaos.

Every room seemed to whisper that the work was not done. Her back ached, her feet throbbed, and irritation simmered as she wandered through the house, only to find upstairs silence where movement should have been. The absence of sound, footsteps, water running, or voices began to gnaw at her patience, and by 11 a.m., she could no longer ignore it. Calling out repeatedly for her daughter-in-law, she found no response. Finally, frustration and fatigue pushed her to act. She grabbed a stick from the kitchen corner and marched up the stairs, anger giving her legs strength as her mind filled with scolding thoughts: a newly married daughter-in-law sleeping past morning was an affront, and she would not tolerate it.