Có thể là hình ảnh về 3 người và bệnh viện

My husband moved in with b///oh, I quietly drove my mother-in-law to gi/pond tr/her, before leaving, I said a sentence that made both of us fall in love…

Minh and I have been married for 7 years. Marriage is not rosy, but I always try for my children, for the home I have chosen. From the day I got married, I accepted to live with my mother-in-law – a woman who had a stroke, was paralyzed, only lay in one place and needed to take care of every meal and sleep.

At first, I thought it was simple: she was my mother-in-law, I was my daughter-in-law, and it was my duty to take care of her. But I didn’t expect that the burden would last until I was exhausted, and the most heartbreaking thing was from the person who was supposed to bear it with me – my husband.

Minh went to work, and at night he was tired and lay down to play on the phone. I take care of my mother, rice, water, and medicine with my own hands. He always said:
“I’m better at taking care of my mother than you. If you do it, you will suffer even more.”

I don’t blame. I think it’s simple: well, the wife is worried, the husband goes to work. But then I found out – Minh didn’t just go to work. He has someone else.

Everything broke when I accidentally saw the message:
“You’re coming over tonight. It’s a thousand times more fun to be with me than at home.”

I didn’t cry. Don’t make a fuss. I just asked lightly:
“What do you plan to do with your mother, who you have neglected for so many years?”

Minh was silent. The next day, he moved out. I knew he had moved in with that woman. Even though I called and texted – he didn’t answer. My mother-in-law was lying in the room, unaware of anything. She still believes that her son is busy with work, and will be back in a few days.

I looked at my grandmother – who used to judge me every bite of food and sleep, once criticized me for being “not worthy of being a bride” – and felt suffocated. I used to want to let go of everything, but then I thought: being a human being, it should be meaningful.

A week later, I called Minh:
“Are you free? I brought my mother to me.”

The other end of the line was silent for a few seconds, and then hung up.

That afternoon, I quietly wiped my body, changed my clothes, and folded the blanket for my mother-in-law. I put medicines, hospital papers, and old medical books in a cloth bag.

In the evening, I carried her in a wheelchair and said softly:
“Mom, I took you to stay with Mr. Minh for a few days so that you can change the wind. It’s sad to stay in one place forever.”

She nodded slightly, her eyes as happy as a child. She did not know that she was about to be “handed over” to her biological son who had chosen to abandon her.

Arriving at the place – a small apartment, I rang the bell. Minh opened the door, and inside was the other woman, a silk nightgown, and a red lipstick.

Both of them were dumbfounded when they saw me pushing a wheelchair, my mother-in-law sitting on it, her face fresh.

I gently pushed the car into the living room, arranged the blankets and pillows, and placed the medicine bag on the table. The house smells of perfume but is cold.

Minh stammered:
“What are you doing?”

I smiled and calmly replied,
“Have you forgotten? Mother is his responsibility. I’ve only helped for a few years. Now… You take care of yourself.”

The woman standing behind Minh was about to speak, but I turned and looked her in the eye.

“From now on, every time you put medicine, wipe your body, change your mother’s diaper – remember the meals I ate in a hurry, the nights when my mother woke up with a fever. And if you ever feel tired, remember: it’s something a child—or a husband—should have carried a long time ago, not me.”

The air in the room was thick. Ming’s face was flushed, and the other girl was pale, and she turned her back.

I bowed to my mother-in-law and said softly,
“Mom, from now on, I ask for permission not to take care of you anymore. I’m tired. But I don’t blame you. I hope you are safe.”

Then I turned away, without waiting for anyone to say another word. On the way back, I cried. Not because of the pain, but because I finally let go – in a serene and kind way.

Lesson learned:
Not everyone who is gentle is resigned. There are women who only choose to remain silent because their hearts are still loving and patient. But when they decided to leave, no one could hold on – not even the former husband, or the former mother.