The homewrecker, the bitch, the other one, the demoness herself. That's what she thought of herself, screaming, while very calmly affirming that it was something normal what she was doing, it just had to be done. Sol Maria, "Mala" for friends and enemies, felt this way, all her life; since her childhood, since she can remember, she has always been the "other". That night she was only fulfilling her destiny, her mission in life, but even while exercising her profession she felt like "the worst".
Once upon a time, she thought of marrying a veil and crown, yes; she dreamed of a complete family with children, husband and even a pet, but all that vanished before the mundane privilege of travelling to other countries, among different material objects and luxurious life. Always grandly diva-like and toe-curlingly white, Mala could go to any luxurious place she wanted to go, as well as the best beauty salons, branded shops, a woman who specialised in being a true connoisseur of glamour and a thought that she kept in the shadow of her innermost self. She always knew how to manipulate the man of the moment, divine, desired and admired by all, even by the wives of the poor soulless who fell into her clutches.
Her friends had all married, where she had always attended their weddings alone, but always ended up returning accompanied, whenever she arrived at bars, restaurants or weddings, whether by a wild magnetism that no one doubted she possessed, by karma or by a hereditary curse, Mala would strike up a relationship in a matter of seconds, a portentous conversation with the man with the most money in the place, beautiful, powerful. The most diverse and interesting men, but they were always married. Her talent was really very good, special in her vocation. "But it's the best", she used to say to the four winds, "it's incredible to be the other one, there is no duty to anyone, I have no responsibility, I don't have to take care of anyone, much less take anyone to school, there is no mother-in-law who wants to manipulate my life, no family lunches on Sundays". Her life always seemed to enjoy a fascinating perpetual romance. Winged by the domestic nightmare that kills all traces of love, mala lived sliding between passions, provoked (even to herself) the illusion of a perfect life. Sol Maria, the worst of them all, lived a life that many legal women envied and was (so she believed, so we all believed) immensely happy.
However, it was only a matter of time before, whenever the day came, she woke up with that feeling of despair for no apparent reason. As the hours of the day passed, Mala felt the desire, she felt that enormous anxiety to see her man walk through the door and tell her that he had thought it through, that he had chosen to stay with her, that he was going to talk to his wife and once and for all, clarify everything, that he didn't want to continue living like this. And then he would ask her to marry him. That's what he felt during the day, by the afternoon, everything had already passed, he knew that nothing of what he had imagined was possible, it was evident that he could not expect respect, loyalty and understanding from a man who did what he did with the one who was his wife at that time, from whom he did not even think of separating. Not even for her, for her who had given him everything, body, heart and soul, the years of her youth, anything, but EVERYTHING. Then she knew what she had to do, which she did more and more often, over and over again. She dressed, put on her make-up and went out to visit, as she did that afternoon, the guy's wife. Once in front of her, not by coincidence she was always dressed as a lady, as a housewife, she took off her glasses and, with a regret and a loneliness that none of those privileged women would ever feel, she said the magic words: "According to your point of view".
The story revolves around a woman, mistreated since her youth, treated indifferently by the lack of affection of both parents, she was always treated with blows, her self-esteem is in the depths of her soul, lost without direction, without guide, without compass, a completely wandering life, thinking that she had clear everything, that she really knew what she wanted in life, but everything was always an illusion, she was aware of everything she did, it was a way to take revenge for having suffered so much, the distrust she felt towards men drove her even more to the arms of different men, that lack of a paternal image in her youth, threw her into many arms, looking for something, but in the wrong way, destiny was not very good to her, because she herself did not know what she wanted in her destiny.
