A young wife quit her job to care for her husband, who was injured in an accident, and her boss unexpectedly gave her ₹7 lakh—but when we arrived at the bus station, two children ran toward us crying, leaving everyone speechless…

My 10-year-old daughter would cry every time she came home from her grandparents’ house. I hid the recorder, and when I heard the whole truth, I was shocked…

My name is Meera, 35 years old. I live in an apartment in Mumbai with my husband, Arjun, and my younger daughter, Ananya. To me, Ananya is my whole world: obedient, good at studies, and very affectionate. But as she grew older, she had more things to share with her mother, which became increasingly difficult. And then, one day, I realized I had caused her too much pain.

It all started when Arjun would take Ananya to his grandparents’ house—his in-laws’ house in Thane—on weekends. At first, I thought it was a good thing: Grandma needed her company. But recently, whenever she came home from there, Ananya had been unusually quiet. One day, she went to her room, buried her face in a pillow, and started crying. I asked, and she simply shook her head:
—I’m fine, don’t worry…

I asked Arjun, and he said irritably:
—You think too much. It’s natural for children to cry a little, don’t overthink it!

But my maternal instinct told me: something was wrong. I decided to do something that still makes me shudder to remember.

The next day, before my son followed Arjun back to Thane, I secretly hid a small voice recorder in his bag. My hands trembled as I zipped it up, my heart pounding. Partly, I blamed myself for suspecting something, partly, I needed to know the truth.

That afternoon, Ananya came home and started crying again. I hugged her and pretended to be oblivious. When she fell asleep, I turned on the voice recorder.

The voice left me speechless.

Grandma’s voice was hoarse, mixed with Marathi:
—This girl, just like your mother. What kind of woman can’t bear a son? If she doesn’t study well enough to earn a lot of money, throw her away!

Ananya’s voice choked:
—I… I’ll try. Don’t hate me…

My heart sank at the sound of this. Why should a ten-year-old girl have to endure such cruel words?

Unable to stop, Arjun’s cold voice echoed:
—You’re right. She’s just a girl, what’s the point of marrying her off later? Don’t spoil her too much.

I trembled, tears welling up. It dawned on me that the person I trusted the most all this time was so careless, even willing to let my daughter be abused like this.

I sat beside my daughter’s bed, looking at her tear-stained face; my heart was filled with sadness and anger. During the day, she would smile and talk to me, but behind her back, she would endure pressure from her own family.

The next morning, I asked Arjun to sit in the living room. I placed the recorder on the table and pressed play. Voices echoed through the dark room, making Arjun’s face turn pale. I looked him straight in the eyes:
— Is this what you call “normal”? She’s only 10 years old! She needs love, not contempt.

Arjun stammered:
— I… I just want to teach her to be tough…

I smiled sadly:
— Be tough by making her feel unloved? Do you know how much she cried every time she came home from her parents’ house?

Arjun was silent, his head bowed. For the first time, I saw shame in my husband’s eyes.

That night, I hugged my son and whispered:
—Anu, I know you’ve been through a lot. You don’t need to put pressure on yourself. Be true to yourself; I’m always with you.

He was stunned, then burst into tears:
—Mom… I thought you didn’t believe me. I was afraid you’d be sad if I told you.

I hugged him tightly. At that moment, I understood: the greatest pain was that my little daughter had to endure this alone.

From that day on, I resolved: she would never go to her parents’ home alone again. I told my husband’s family in Thane: If there’s still a prejudice against boys, please leave me and my daughter alone. I even spoke with a child psychologist in Bandra to help my daughter find relief from this pressure. For me—an Indian mother living in the heart of busy Mumbai—nothing is more important than letting my child grow up in complete love.

The truth revealed by the tape recorder created a rift in the family, but it also helped me clearly understand what is important to cherish:
A daughter’s tears should never be ignored.