HER HUSBAND LEFT HER WITH A BROKEN SEED DRILL… 6 YEARS LATER HE RETURNED BEGGING FOR FORGIVENESS
The engine died with a final sigh. “Stay here with your useless piece of junk.” Mariana, with dirt under her fingernails and two hungry children, was abandoned in front of a rusty seed drill that wasn’t even good for scrap. But 6 years later, that same scorned woman would become the owner of fields that fed three states, making the man who destroyed her weep on his knees, begging for a second chance.
But before we begin this inspiring story, comment below with the city you’re watching from and leave a like to continue following us. The dust kicked up by Sebastián Moreno’s truck still hung in the air when Mariana Salinas felt her legs give way. She collapsed to her knees on the dry earth, her hands clutching the torn fabric of her dress.
To her left, seven-year-old Miguel tried not to cry. To her right, four-year-old Lucía sobbed, not understanding why her father had left without them. “Mommy, why did you leave us here?” Miguel asked, his voice breaking. Mariana couldn’t answer. The words were stuck in her throat, her heart shattered.
She stared at the road where the truck had disappeared, taking with it ten years of marriage and any illusions about love. In front of her was the seeder, an old, rusty machine, more metal skeleton than working tool. The seat was ripped, the yellowed padding spilling out like entrails. The half-buried wheels had cracked tires.
The engine was a corroded iron block covered in cobwebs, but the worst part wasn’t the machine; it was the land that stretched to the horizon. Twenty hectares of abandoned, dry, cracked fields, nothing but ash-colored earth, gray rocks, and thorny bushes. There was no house, no visible well, nothing at all, except for that broken seeder and a half-collapsed tin shed. The April sun beat down like hammer blows.
It was 2 p.m. and the temperature must have been 40 degrees Celsius. The air vibrated with the heat; there was no shade or shelter, only that merciless sun and the absolute silence of the barren countryside. “I’m thirsty, Mommy!” Lucía whimpered, her lips cracking. Mariana searched desperately through the suitcases Sebastián had thrown on the ground.
She found a bottle with half a liter of water. She gave Lucía two sips, and Miguel two. She didn’t drink. Her children were all that mattered. “Are we going to stay here?” Miguel asked, his eyes reflecting more understanding than a seven-year-old should have. He had seen too much in the last few months: his father coming home drunk every night, yelling; the arguments; the insults; the banging against walls.
He had seen his mother cry silently, a black eye in her eye. And that terrible morning when her father announced he had a new life in the capital and they were no longer part of it. “Yes, my love,” Mariana finally answered. “We’re going to stay here, but there’s no house,” Miguel observed with crushing logic. “There’s nowhere to sleep and no food.” “I know, but we’ll find a way. I promise.”
The promise rang hollow. She had no money. In her pocket, she carried 35 pesos that Sebastián had thrown in her face. “So you can’t say I left you with nothing, even though it’s more than you’re worth.” She had no phone. Sebastián had taken it from her, claiming she used it to talk to other men. She had no family. Her parents had died when she was 20.
Her brother had left for the United States without a trace. She had no friends because Sebastián had systematically isolated her from everyone. She was completely alone, with two children, 35 pesos, two suitcases of old clothes, and a useless seed drill. The memory of that morning returned brutally. They lived in a small apartment that smelled of damp.
Sebastián had lost his job four months ago, and since then he’d only been drinking and yelling, blaming the world and Mariana for his problems. That morning he’d burst into the room announcing, “Pack your things, we’re leaving.” Mariana had felt a glimmer of hope. “Did you get a job?” “I got a job.”
“Yes, I have a new life waiting for me, but you’re going somewhere else.” Mariana’s stomach sank. “What do you mean? I’m fed up, fed up with you, with your different selves, with these brats. I’m going to the capital with someone who actually values me. We’re your family.” He let out a dry laugh. “Family? You call this family? Look at this hole we live in.
Look at these kids in old clothes with starving faces. The family you created, the one you promised to take care of when we got married. That was when you were young and beautiful. Now look at you, 32 years old and you look 50. Skinny, ugly, with nothing to offer.” Each word was a slap in the face. Mariana looked at herself in the cracked mirror. It was true, she had changed. Her once-shiny hair was now dull with premature gray.
Her once-round face was now angular with deep lines. Her body was too thin.
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