Having never looked through my wife’s wardrobe, the first time I washed her clothes, I almost fainted when I saw something unexpected fall out
My wife and I have been married for 7 years and have two sons. Because I am busy and often travel to other cities in India for work, we have to live apart for many days a month.

My wife, Anika, has to raise children and take care of her elderly mother-in-law in a small house in the suburbs of Mumbai. Seeing her struggling, I often suggested hiring a maid, but Anika firmly refused. I heard from friends that leaving my wife alone at home for too long would one day lead to trouble, but seeing Anika still young and diligent, I felt worried and uneasy.

To control and protect her, I only send her 8,000 Rupees a month for spending, and if she needs more, she has to inform me in advance about the purpose of use so that I can decide. I told myself that this way I would know for sure what she does, and she cannot deceive me. I even lied that my job was difficult and I could only send that much money. Anika believed me completely and always encouraged me: “Honey, you can rest assured to go to work, I will take care of my mother and the children.”

For 5 years, I was at ease going on business trips far from home, only coming back occasionally, without worrying about losing my wife. Then one day, I was transferred to a job closer to home, more convenient to take care of my family.

One morning, my mother and wife went to the temple, my two children were sent to my parents’ house, I had nothing to do so I decided to clean the house. There was a power outage, and the clothes had not been washed yet, so I had to wash them by hand. While picking up the clothes to wash, I was stunned when I saw Anika’s underwear, so old and torn that the original color was no longer recognizable. I wondered why she had worn them for so long without changing them.

Looking around, I discovered that all of my wife’s clothes were old and faded. I was silent for a long time, feeling so bad about myself.

Anika has lived frugally and in poverty for so many years, isn’t it because I’m suspicious and don’t trust her? I’m a heartless husband, only knowing how to doubt and guard my wife, selfishly thinking of myself. With the money I send home that’s only enough to take care of my mother and two children, where does Anika get the money to take care of herself?

I feel guilty and extremely ashamed. I’m determined to make it up to her in every way. I will become a better, more considerate husband, to be worthy of Anika – the gentle, devoted and loving wife that I accidentally neglected.

After that day, I started to change little by little. In the morning, instead of leaving the house before Anika woke up, I made her warm milk tea, gently placed it on the kitchen table, and smiled: “I made it early for you to drink before going to work.” Anika looked at me, a little surprised but her eyes were much gentler.

In the evening, after picking up the two children from school, I did not just sit and watch TV or plug in my phone like before. I cleaned the kitchen with Anika, prepared dinner, and talked about the children’s day. For the first time, I really saw the joy in the small things she had been silently doing for so long.

One drizzly afternoon on the streets of Mumbai, when we were jogging home with our two children after school and work, I held Anika’s hand tightly and said: “I’m sorry for being careless, for not seeing what you sacrificed.” She just smiled, but that smile, to me, was more beautiful than anything in this crowded city.

From there, we started planning our home together. Not luxury apartments or expensive decorations, but simple moments: planting flowers together on the small balcony, baking cakes for the children, reading stories before going to bed. Every action became meaningful, because we knew how precious it was to enjoy life together.

One evening, after a simple dinner of chicken curry and chapati, Anika and I sat on the balcony watching the golden lights of Mumbai twinkling in the distance. I held her hand and whispered: “I will never let you suffer again. I want us to build this happiness together, from today and the days to come.”

Anika leaned gently on my shoulder, her eyes shining with trust and peace: “You know… I always wanted you to see the little things I do. Now… I see.”

In the midst of the bustling city, the sound of traffic and the pattering rain, I felt a simple but profound thing: love is not always about grand romantic words, but sometimes it is just a silent care, sharing and overcoming difficult years together.

And so, in the midst of busy Mumbai, between crowded roads and close-knit houses, our home became warmer than ever – not thanks to material things or wealth, but thanks to love, sincerity and simple moments that I had forgotten.