I had saved up some gold and kept it under the bedsheets. Every day, my mother-in-law would ask me to wash the sheets and pillows for her. That day, I pretended to ask her to wash them before going to work. Ten minutes later, I quietly returned home and…
I had been married for just over a year, becoming a daughter-in-law in a middle-class family in Pune, Maharashtra. My husband and I were young, and our monthly salaries weren’t much, so we had to carefully consider every expense. After saving up for months, I finally managed to accumulate 30 grams of gold – a valuable asset that Indian women always consider a safety net. I carefully wrapped it in a red velvet pouch and hid it under the bedsheets in the corner of the wooden bed against the wall – a place I believed no one would touch.

My husband, Rahul, didn’t know. I didn’t tell anyone either.

And yet, from the day the gold was there, my mother-in-law – Shanta – suddenly became unusually diligent.

“Let me wash the bedsheets and blankets for you.” “It’s so sad for a woman to have to clean up after a tiring day at work!” she said, her voice full of concern.

At first, I felt touched and even blamed myself for thinking badly of her. But then, every week she insisted on doing the laundry, and each time she would enter our bedroom without permission, flipping the blankets and arranging the pillows exactly where I hid my gold. One day, I finished work early and walked into the house to find her sitting on the edge of the bed. As soon as she saw me, she jumped up in surprise, her embarrassment barely concealed.

My heart began to race with suspicion.

That day, I decided to set a trap.

In the morning, I pretended to say:

“Mom, it’s probably going to rain today. The bedsheets are dirty, could you wash them for me? I need to go to work before I’m late.”

Mrs. Shanta smiled kindly:

“Okay, leave it to me. You can go to work without worry.”

I locked the gate, wheeled my bike out of the small alley in front of the house, then turned back through the kitchen door at the back, following the wall, and quietly opened the door – without making a sound.

Ten minutes later.

I hid behind the wall, peeking into the bedroom.

Mrs. Shanta was kneeling on the bed. Her hands were flipping over the sheets, reaching under the bed as if she were very familiar with that spot. Then she pulled out a red velvet pouch. Her hands trembled as she opened the pouch, her eyes gleaming with excitement – ​​the look of someone who had just found a treasure.

But before I could see clearly inside…

“Click!” – I switched on the light.

– Mother…

She jumped, crouching down: – Oh… Mother… I thought it was trash… I was just cleaning!

I stepped in, gently took the pouch from her hands, and opened it. Inside wasn’t real gold, but just a few fake gold coins – the ones I had swapped the day before.

The real gold is now in a safe at the national bank.

I smiled and slowly said,

“I won’t keep the real gold under the bed anymore, Mom. But trust… there’s no way to wash it away.”

She was silent. She didn’t look at me. Only her ears flushed red with embarrassment.

That evening, I told Rahul everything. He wasn’t angry, nor did he raise his voice. He just set up a small mattress under the stairs for Mom to sleep on for a few days, then called his sister in Jaipur to ask her to bring Mom back home for a “rest.”

As for me – from that day on, I never kept gold under the bed again.

I kept it in my head. And kept it in my memory.