At first, I thought my wife wouldn’t dare go. Her parents’ home was about 500 kilometers away, near Lucknow. In Delhi, she didn’t know anyone but me. Furthermore, I was the one who kept all the household money; she didn’t have a single penny. Thinking this, I fell asleep peacefully, with a high pillow next to my mother, unconcerned.

My mother, Sharda Devi, always considered herself a sacrificer for the family and always wanted her daughter-in-law to be completely obedient. I also thought: “As a child, it’s your responsibility to take care of your parents. A wife just has to endure a little, what’s the harm in that?”

My wife, Anita, was from a different city, far away. We met while studying in Delhi. When we discussed marriage, my mother strongly objected:
“My daughter’s home is too far away, it’s difficult to travel, and she’ll get tired later.”

Anita cried, but remained firm:
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of your family as your daughter-in-law. I may not be able to visit my parents more than once a year.”

Finally, I pleaded with my mother, and she reluctantly agreed. But from then on, whenever I wanted to take my wife and children to my parents’ house, my mother would find some excuse to stop me.

Mother-in-law and Daughter-in-law Conflict

After the birth of Anita’s first son, her temperament changed, and there were disagreements about childcare. I just thought: “Sharda is a grandmother, she wants the best for her child, so what’s the harm in obeying her?”

But Anita refused. Sometimes, a fight would break out over simply giving the child milk or porridge. My mother flew into a rage, broke bowls and chopsticks, and then fell ill for a week because of her arrogance.

Recently, when my husband and I took our child to my grandmother’s house, things took a turn for the worse. The child had a seizure and a high fever. My mother scolded Anita:

“I was the one who didn’t know how to protect my child and let him get sick like this?”

I realized my mother was right. I blamed my wife, and she openly lashed out.

The Quarrel and the Night at the Warehouse

That night, Anita stayed up all night caring for her child. I was tired from the long journey, so I went upstairs to sleep with my parents.

Early in the morning, my family had guests over to discuss work and then stay for dinner. My mother gave Anita 1,000 rupees and asked her to go to the market, buy groceries, and cook three trays. I noticed my wife was exhausted after staying up all night, and I was about to leave when my mother yelled:

“If a man goes to the market, people will laugh at him. I’ve just been up all night taking care of my child, and I go to work in the morning. She’s my daughter-in-law; she has to manage the kitchen.”

My mother and I kept calling out, but Anita didn’t wake up. She even yelled:
“I’ve been up all night taking care of my grandson, and I’m tired. He’s your guest, not mine. I’m my daughter-in-law, not a maid!”

My mother and I stared at each other. I was ashamed of my relatives, and angrily dragged Anita into the storeroom and forced her to sleep there to “think again.” There was no blanket or pillow. I thought: “This time I’ll have to be strict so she’ll stop arguing with her mother-in-law.”

That Fateful Morning

The next morning, I opened the storeroom door… I was shocked. Anita was gone.

Frightened, I ran upstairs and told my mother. She was also shocked and immediately called the whole family to look for her. When she ran out into the street, a neighbor said:
“Last night I saw her crying, dragging her suitcase down the street. I gave her taxi money to get back to her mother’s house. She asked me to tell her that your family treats their daughter-in-law like a maid; she can’t stand it anymore. She’s getting a divorce.”

I was stunned. After calling for a long time, Anita finally answered the phone. Her voice was cold:

“I’m at my parents’ house. In a few days, I’ll file for divorce. My son is under three years old; of course, I’ll get custody of him. The property will be divided equally.”

I was stunned, my heart pounding. When I told my mother, she ignored it:

“She was just threatening, she wouldn’t dare.”

But I knew—Anita wasn’t the same anymore. She was absolutely determined to leave this marriage. And this time, maybe I had truly lost my wife…

Part 2: The Cold Divorce Papers

Three days after Anita returned to her parents’ home in Lucknow, I received a brown envelope. Inside was a divorce paper stamped by the local court. On it, Anita had clearly written the reason: “My husband and his family mentally tortured me, treated me like a servant, and disrespected my dignity.”

I held the paper, my hands trembling. Deep inside, I still hoped she would calm down and come back. But Anita had truly made up her mind.

My mother – Sharada Devi – was furious upon hearing the news:
“How dare he do this? A woman and a girl getting divorced is a disgrace to her entire family. Leave her alone, she will come crawling back begging for mercy.”

But unlike my mother, I wasn’t angry, but rather felt a growing fear. If I truly divorced, I would lose custody of my child. According to Indian law, children under the age of three must stay with their mother.

Pressure from Relatives and Public Opinion

The news spread rapidly through my Jaipur family. Relatives came to my house, some blaming me:
“Raj, how foolish you are. Your daughter-in-law has just given birth and is still in labor, and you’re making her sleep in the storeroom? Isn’t this cruel?”

Some sarcastically said:
“The whole village knows. The Kapoor family is notorious for treating their daughters-in-law badly. Who would dare marry their daughter-in-law in the future?”

I bowed my head, not daring to argue. Every word of gossip stabbed me like a knife.

The Pain of Losing a Child

That night, I secretly video-called Anita. She picked up the phone, and on the screen was my son, fast asleep in his mother’s arms. My heart ached at the sight of that little face. I said tremblingly:
“Anita, at least let me see him once. I miss him so much.”

Anita looked at me, her eyes cold:
“You only remember your child? And I, who was fired from the warehouse and treated like a servant, don’t you remember anything? Raj, you’re too late. I won’t come back.”

My throat choked, tears streaming down my face.

A Belated Regret

In the days that followed, I became like a lifeless body. I couldn’t concentrate on work. Every night I dreamed of Anita taking our child away, and I ran helplessly after her.

I began to realize: For the past two years, I had only been listening to my mother, forcing my wife to endure and suffer. I hadn’t defended Anita, hadn’t stood by her—the woman who had abandoned her entire family to follow me.

Now, the price I had to pay was the loss of both my wife and child.

The Harsh Truth

One morning, my uncle came and patted me on the shoulder:

“Raj, I have a piece of advice for you. Once a daughter-in-law files for divorce, it’s difficult to change her. You have only one choice: either accept it or humble yourself and apologize. But remember, this isn’t your personal matter anymore; it’s about the Kapoor family’s honor.”

I sat quietly. The pressure of my mother, relatives, and public opinion weighed heavily on my shoulders. But the biggest fear remained: I would no longer hear my son call me ‘Papa’ every morning.

The Climax Begins

That night, I went out alone into the courtyard, gazing at the starry sky with a heavy heart. I knew I would either lose everything, or I would have to do something I had never dared to do before: stand up to my mother, get my wife and child back.