Furious, I threw the wad of money straight at my husband’s face and declared…/hi
My current husband and I have both been through failed marriages.
My first marriage ended because my ex-husband cheated on me. Perhaps out of guilt, he left me all our shared assets, and he still regularly sends 50,000 rupees alimony each month for our daughter. She is 6 years old and lives with me in Pune.
My current husband, Rajiv, also divorced because his ex-wife cheated on him. His son lives with his mother in Mumbai, and according to him, he sends 15,000 rupees a month for child support. Initially, I didn’t mind. I thought it was a father’s responsibility, and I respected that.
But recently, his ex-wife has been constantly calling to complain about the rising cost of living – tuition, rent, everything. Rajiv didn’t argue; he initially increased the amount by 10,000 rupees, then by another 5,000 rupees. So, he has to send his ex-wife 30,000 rupees every month.
Meanwhile, he used to give me 25,000 rupees for living expenses each month. But since increasing the amount for his ex-wife, he’s quietly reduced mine to 15,000 rupees.
What hurts me isn’t the amount, but the feeling of injustice.
I live with him, we raise our children together, and I also take care of his parents – they live with us in the family home in the suburbs of Pune. Cooking, cleaning, childcare… I handle almost everything myself. His parents don’t help with housework or contribute to living expenses.
I’m not short of money. I still have savings from my previous marriage and I run my own online business. But I can’t help but feel resentful:
Another woman, who doesn’t live with him, doesn’t take care of anyone, receives 30,000 rupees every month.
And I – the one supporting the whole family – only had 15,000 rupees left.
The more I thought about it, the more I felt disrespected.
One day, unable to hold back any longer, I placed the wad of money in front of my husband, pushed it forcefully towards him, and said:
—Do you think I need your money that much? I raise my own child, and I’m not short of money. But in this house, no one respects me. From today onwards, I will no longer serve your family – from the oldest to the youngest.
After saying that, I packed my things, took my daughter from a previous relationship, and went back to my parents’ house in Nagpur, leaving our child for him and his parents to take care of.
I needed time to think.
And I also wanted them to understand that what I had been doing all this time wasn’t an obligation, but a voluntary sacrifice.
My mother-in-law had always told the neighbors that I didn’t work and was living off her son.
But she didn’t know that most of the grocery bills, utility bills, and the meals provided for the house were paid for by me. Without me, would this house still function so smoothly?
Just a few days after I left, Rajiv kept calling to apologize.
He said the house was a mess, his mother wasn’t used to cooking or taking care of children, and our child cried every day for her.
Finally, he admitted:
—I was wrong. I was too thoughtless and underestimated what you did for this family.
I didn’t readily believe him. I stayed at my parents’ house for a few more days, not to punish anyone, but to ask myself:
Do I still want to continue this marriage?
I can live independently, raise my child, and not depend on anyone. But I also don’t deny that I once loved him and had placed a lot of hope in this marriage.
Finally, I decided to give him one last chance, but with clear conditions:
Living expenses must be shared fairly; my share cannot be cut just because someone else demands more.
Household chores must be shared, or if not, a housekeeper must be hired.
My mother-in-law must not speak ill of me to outsiders, and he must stand by me if that happens.
Family finances must be transparent, because I will not accept being labeled a “dependent on my husband” when I contribute both money and effort.
Rajiv agreed.
He gave me a savings account in my name, saying that from now on I would be in charge of the family finances. He also spoke frankly to his mother:
—My wife is the one who keeps this house warm. Without her, this place would be just four walls. I hope you will respect my wife from now on.
My mother-in-law nodded. Perhaps after my departure, she also realized that things were no longer as obvious as before. In the days that followed, she started helping in the kitchen, sometimes even going to the market herself and cooking some of her most prized traditional dishes to “redeem herself” in my eyes.
As for Rajiv, he truly changed. He shared household chores, was transparent about finances, and showed me more care than before.
No one’s life is perfect.
But if women don’t speak up for their rights, no one will automatically grant them fairness.
Women can divorce.
And they can remarry.
But remarriage isn’t about continuing to endure, but about building a fair and respectful home together.
Now, each day passes more peacefully for me.
My children are happy, my husband listens, and my mother-in-law no longer gossips.
I don’t need a lot of money.
I just need to be respected.
And this time, I believe I dared to live true to myself:
Being a wife and a mother – but not an unconditional servant.
