My mother-in-law was hospitalized for a few days, and I brought her a pot of nourishing porridge, but she wrinkled her face and said it reeked of fish, scolding me bitterly: “My son married you, that was his worst mistake!” — until the door suddenly opened…
That morning, Jaipur City Hospital was still draped in a heavy mist. I rushed down the long, chilly corridors, carrying porridge that had simmered since midnight. My mother-in-law had endured three days of stomach pain, her figure frail, her face pale. Looking at her condition, I poured my heart into preparing chicken porridge with ginger and coriander, hoping the warmth would ease her. “If she eats this, she’ll feel better,” I told myself with fragile hope.
Room 305 was still. My mother-in-law – Savita Devi – leaned against the headboard, her eyes icy. I set the container on the table, gently ladled porridge into a bowl, letting the aroma rise. In a soft voice, I said:
– “Mom, I’ve made chicken porridge, please eat it while it’s hot.”
She cast a quick glance at the bowl, her brows knitting:
“What kind of porridge is this? How did you cook it?”
Before I managed to respond, she stirred furiously with a spoon, splattering porridge across the table. Her words cut like a blade:
“What kind of daughter-in-law are you? You can’t even make porridge! My son ruined his life marrying you!”
I froze, trembling, forcing back tears, whispering:
“Mom…I’m sorry, I’ll go home and cook it again.”
She waved her hand, still brimming with disdain.
Right then, the door swung open. A woman entered – tall, wearing a bright blue sari, light makeup glowing on her face. I recognized her instantly: Priya Sharma, my husband’s former lover. My pulse skipped.
Priya smiled warmly, rushing to the bed, speaking tenderly:
– “Aunty, how are you? I heard you weren’t well, I came running from Delhi this morning.”
Savita Devi’s face transformed. She gripped Priya’s hand, eyes brimming:
– “Oh, Priya, you’ve returned! I missed you dearly. Still thoughtful, still so refined… not like before…”
Her eyes flicked at me, the unfinished words stabbing.
Priya looked at me, smiling faintly:
– “Hello, Asha. It’s been long. How are you? Oh, aunty mentioned you cooked porridge… it must be difficult, isn’t it?”
I clenched my lips, answering steadily:
– “I made porridge for her. Maybe it didn’t suit her taste.”
Priya shrugged lightly, turned to my mother-in-law with affection:
– “Auntie, I’ll bring your favorite dry fruit pudding. This porridge… seems hard to swallow.”
Savita Devi nodded, softening:
– “Only you truly understand me. Earlier Vikram and you were perfect together, I still regret…”
Hearing that, my heart sank. I realized all the scolding and coldness I endured wasn’t only her harshness – but because the shadow of another woman still lingered in her heart.
I inhaled deeply and said quietly:
– “Mom, if you dislike this porridge, I’ll take it back. I’ll bring you hot water.”
Without awaiting reply, I turned away.
Walking the corridor, my chest felt heavy: “I must endure… for Vikram, for our family.” Yet deep down, I knew my path as a daughter-in-law would be rough, for my husband’s past was still alive in his mother’s eyes.
That evening, I confided in Vikram. He held me, voice warm:
– “I’m sorry you suffered. I’ll speak to Mom directly. To me, you matter most.”
I nodded, resting on his shoulder, though unease gnawed within. The porridge spilling, Priya’s faint smile, and my mother-in-law’s eyes… all left wounds that refused to heal.
After that day, I assumed Priya’s visit was a one-time courtesy. But no. She returned daily – sometimes with almond milk, sometimes herbal soup, sometimes pricey supplements.
Each time Priya entered, Savita Devi’s face lit up. She’d grip her hand, praising:
– “Delhi girls are different, elegant, caring, unlike others…”
That “other” was me. I stood as if invisible.
When Savita Devi was discharged, Priya appeared more often, using excuses like “auntie’s health needs care.” One afternoon, while carrying tea, I overheard whispers:
– “If Vikram had married you, life would be different, Priya.”
Priya feigned modesty, smiling softly:
– “Auntie, please don’t say that… but truthfully, I always cared.”
The tray shook in my hands, tea spilling. I had to breathe deeply to steady myself.
Though Vikram assured me of his love, I noticed his gaze waver whenever Priya appeared. They’d been deeply in love during college but split after her family forced marriage. Now single again, with my mother-in-law openly favoring her, she became a constant shadow.
One evening, Vikram murmured:
– “Asha, Priya comes only for Mom. Don’t think too much.”
I bit my lip:
– “But can’t you see she’s intruding? I don’t want to feel like a guest in my own home.”
He stayed silent, avoiding my eyes. That silence hurt most.
The Breaking Point
Tension peaked during a small celebration my mother-in-law hosted. She invited Priya, seating her beside Vikram, and throughout dinner reminisced about old times, praising Priya while cutting me down. Each word pierced me.
Finally, I rose, my voice trembling yet firm:
– “Mom, I know you adore Priya. But I am Vikram’s wife, the daughter-in-law here. If you continue comparing and humiliating me before outsiders, I must ask: do you want me gone, or do you wish me to remain as your true daughter-in-law?”
The room fell silent. All eyes fixed on me. Priya blinked in surprise, Savita Devi’s glare sharpened. Before she spoke, Vikram suddenly stood.
He clasped my hand, declaring:
– “Mother, stop tormenting Asha. Priya belongs to the past. Asha is my present and my future. If you refuse to accept her, I will leave with my wife.”
Savita Devi froze. Priya’s fake smile vanished instantly.
Resolution
That night, Vikram hugged me tight, whispering:
– “Forgive me for all the pain. Today I finally see it: if I don’t stand with you, I’ll lose you forever.”
Tears blurred my vision. At last I understood: Priya was never the real threat. The danger was Vikram’s silence. But now he chose me — that was my victory.
Though my mother-in-law’s heart might still wage battles, I had reclaimed my rightful place. I was no longer the silent daughter-in-law enduring scorn. From then on, I would live as a true wife — and no shadow of the past could take that away from me.
