My mother-in-law had been hospitalized for several days. I brought her nutritious porridge, but she complained that it tasted like fish and scolded me, “My son married you, that’s a mistake!”—until the door opened…

Early in the morning, Jaipur City Hospital was still shrouded in fog. I hurried through the long, cold corridor, carrying a pot of porridge that had been cooked since midnight. My mother-in-law had been hospitalized for three days with stomach pains; her body was gaunt and her face pale. Seeing her lying there, I put all my energy into making chicken porridge with ginger and coriander leaves, hoping it would warm her stomach. “Mom, you’ll get better after eating this porridge,” I said to myself, my heart filled with hope.

Room 305 was quiet. My mother-in-law—Savita Devi—sat against the bed, her eyes cold. I placed the box of porridge on the table and carefully poured it into a bowl, its aroma wafting up. I said softly:

“Mom, I made chicken porridge. Please eat it hot.”

She glanced at the bowl of porridge, then suddenly said with a frown:

“What kind of porridge is this? How did you make it?”

Before I could explain, she stirred it violently with a spoon, causing it to spill all over the table. Her voice was as cold as a knife:

“What kind of daughter-in-law are you? You can’t even make a bowl of porridge properly! My son made a mistake by choosing you!”

I was stunned, my hands shaking. Trying to hold back my tears, I mumbled:

“Mom… I’m sorry, let me go home and make it again.”

She waved, her face still filled with anger.

At that very moment, the door to the room opened. A woman entered—tall, in a bright blue sari, with light but vibrant makeup. I recognized her immediately: Priya Sharma, my husband’s ex-girlfriend. My heart skipped a beat.

Priya smiled, quickly went to the bed, and said lovingly:
“Aunty, how are you feeling? I heard you were sick. I was so worried. I rushed from Delhi this morning to see you.”

Savita Devi’s face instantly changed. She took Priya’s hand, her eyes moistening:
“Oh, Priya, you’re back! I missed you so much. Still thoughtful, still as delicate as before… not like before…”

Her eyes drifted toward me, her words incomplete but full of poignancy.

Priya turned to me, smiling slightly:
“Hello, Asha. It’s been a while. Are you okay? Oh, Aunty said you made porridge… it’s a little difficult, isn’t it?”

I bit my lip, trying to remain calm:
“I made porridge for you. Maybe it’s not to your taste.”

Priya shrugged, turned to my mother-in-law, and said affectionately:

“Aunty, I’ll get your favorite dry fruit pudding. This porridge… it’s a little hard to swallow.”

Savita Devi nodded and, with a rare, gentle smile, said:

Vikram and I used to get along so well, and I still regret it…”

My heart felt heavy upon hearing this. It dawned on me that I had been scolded and ignored all this time… not just because of my mother-in-law’s harsh nature, but also because the shadow of that old man always loomed in her heart.

I took a deep breath, forced myself to say:

“Mom, if you don’t like the porridge, I’ll take it home. I’ll get you some hot water.”

Without waiting for her to respond, I turned and walked out. In the long hallway, my heart was heavy: “I have to try… for Vikram, for the family.” But deep down, I knew clearly: my journey as a daughter-in-law would be full of ups and downs, because my husband’s past still lingered in my mother-in-law’s eyes.

That night, I told my husband, Vikram. He hugged me, his voice warm:

“I’m sorry, you’ve been hurt so much. I’ll talk to my mother directly. To me, you’re the most important.”

I leaned on his shoulder and nodded, but my heart was still restless. The stirring of the porridge bowl, Priya’s half-smile, and my mother-in-law’s eyes… all felt like wounds that wouldn’t heal easily.

Part 2: When the Shadow of the Elder Grows Bigger

After spending a day in the hospital, I thought Priya would visit only once out of courtesy. But no. She came every day—sometimes carrying a carton of almond milk, sometimes a pot of herbal soup, and even carefully purchasing expensive supplements for my mother-in-law.

Whenever Priya entered the hospital room, Savita Devi’s face would instantly light up. She would always hold my hand, and her words of praise would come out:
“Delhi girls are really different, delicate, caring, different from the rest…”

That other person—me. I stood there like a stranger.

Irony

When my mother-in-law returned home from the hospital, Priya suddenly became more visible. She would repeatedly make excuses for her visits, citing her concern about Auntie’s recovery. One time, as I was carrying a tea tray into the living room, I overheard her and Priya whispering:

“If Vikram had married you back then, things would have been different, Priya.”

Priya, feigning politeness, smiled softly and said:

“Auntie, don’t say that… but to be honest, I’ve always cared for him.”

The tea tray in my hands was shaking, water spilling out. I had to take deep breaths to calm myself.

My husband began to tremble.

Although Vikram always said he loved me, whenever Priya appeared, I could see a strange look in his eyes. They were deeply in love in college, but they broke up because Priya’s family forced her to marry someone else. Now she was alone again, and her mother-in-law openly took her side.

Once, Vikram whispered to me:

“Asha, Priya only came because she was worried about her mother. Don’t overthink it.”

I bit my lip:

“But don’t you see she’s trying to interfere? I don’t want to be an extra in my own home.”

He was silent, avoiding my gaze. It was this silence that hurt my heart.

Turning Point

One evening, when my mother-in-law hosted a small party to celebrate Priya’s recovery, everything came to a head. She invited Priya to come, even seating her next to Vikram. During the meal, she repeatedly told old stories, comparing me to Priya. Every compliment felt like a knife stabbing me in the heart.

Unable to bear it, I stood up, my voice trembling but firm:
“Mom, I know you love Priya. But I am Vikram’s legal wife, the daughter-in-law of this family. If you constantly compare and insult me ​​in front of outsiders, I have to ask clearly: Do you want me to leave, or do you want me to remain a true daughter-in-law?”

The room fell silent. Everyone’s eyes turned to me. Priya was startled for a moment, and Savita Devi glared at her. Before she could say anything, Vikram suddenly stood up.

He grabbed my hand and said loudly:
“Mom, please don’t hurt Asha anymore. Priya is the past. Asha is my present and future. If you don’t accept my wife, I’d rather leave the house and live with her.”

Savita Devi was stunned. Priya was also stunned, her artificial smile suddenly vanishing.

Choice

That night, Vikram hugged me tightly and whispered:

“I’m sorry for hurting you. But today, I see clearly: If I don’t stand by you, I’ll lose you forever.”

Tears welled up in my eyes. Finally, I understood: it wasn’t Priya’s presence that was dangerous, but my husband’s silence. But now he had decided to stand by me—that was the greatest victory.

Although the war in my mother-in-law’s heart wasn’t over yet, I knew I had regained my rightful place. I was no longer the daughter-in-law who could only suffer silently. From now on, I would live like a true wife, and no one—not even the shadows of the past—could take that away from me.