I became a bride at the age of twenty-five, an age when many girls were still engrossed in soaring dreams and romantic dates. I was the youngest daughter-in-law in a traditional family where my husband was the youngest son, and my mother-in-law, a woman who was already in her late teens, began to weaken. My married life was not what I had ever imagined. From the very beginning, I had to face a harsh reality: my mother-in-law was weak, and all personal activities needed help.

For eight years, I have taken care of my mother-in-law wholeheartedly, from the smallest things such as applying porridge, changing diapers, to personal hygiene, not caring about the night or unpleasant smells. There were nights when my mother turned into pain, I got up again, made milk, and massaged her. My sleep became patchy, my eyes were always dark because of lack of sleep. I don’t complain, because I think it is the duty of a daughter-in-law, a wife’s responsibility to her husband’s family.

Deep down, I also secretly hope that my mother-in-law will recognize my merits, will see the silent sacrifices I have made for her. I’m not a greedy person, but I also have worries about the future. I secretly wished that when she died, she would leave some wealth to my husband and me, so that we could have a more stable life, so that our children would have a better future. These thoughts kept circling in my head, both a hope and a little selfishness that I didn’t dare to admit.

Then that fateful day came. After eight years of battling illness, my mother-in-law passed away peacefully in her sleep. My heart hurts, not only because of the loss of a loved one, but also because of the memories, the months I have been with her. I took care of her funeral by myself, from choosing the coffin, to arranging the altar, everything was carefully prepared by me. I want my mother to pass away in the most peaceful way, I want her to rest in peace in the nine streams.

At the funeral, her two biological daughters, who had been absent during her serious illness, suddenly appeared. They were luxuriously dressed, their faces were well dressed, but they were crying and struggling, showing an unusually filial appearance. They hugged their mother’s coffin, crying bitterly, making everyone who looked at it feel sad. I stood looking at them, my heart rising with a sourness. For the past eight years, when I was weak, when I needed my caregiver the most, where were they? Now, when their mother is gone, they appear again, performing a fake filial play.

I didn’t say anything, just stood quietly in a corner, looking at their fake tears. I felt a contempt rise in my heart, but I tried to hold back. This is the day of my mother’s funeral, I don’t want to make a fuss, I don’t want to cause more trouble. I just want her to rest in peace. I looked at my husband, he was also standing there, his eyes were a little sad, but he didn’t say anything. I understand, I understand everything.

After the funeral, came the reading of the will. The lawyer announced that the old woman left all her assets: land, house, savings book, all divided equally between her two biological daughters. My name, the youngest daughter-in-law who has been taking care of her wholeheartedly for eight years, is not mentioned in any statement. The whole room was silent, only the sound of the lawyer reading each clause in the will.

I was dumbfounded. The feeling of disappointment and choking rose up to the throat. Not because of the regret, not because of the money, but because I felt that my heart was being undermined after eight years of dedication. For eight years, I have done my best, sacrificed my youth, health, and sleep to take care of my mother-in-law. I put all my love and devotion into taking care of her. Yet, all I received was silence, oblivion in the will.

My tears began to flow. I tried to hold back, not wanting anyone to see my weakness. I felt like a rock was pressing down on my chest, making it impossible for me to breathe. I looked at my husband, he was also surprised, but he still tried to stay calm. He held my hand tightly, his eyes full of comfort. He said softly: “Don’t let your stomach do anything, baby. Live for your heart. She may not leave us anything, but we have fulfilled our duty.”

My husband’s words of comfort could not ease the pain in my heart. I felt a great injustice. I did everything, I sacrificed everything, but in the end, I didn’t get any recognition. I wondered, was I wrong? Am I too naïve to believe that love and sacrifice will pay off? Disappointment and bitterness kept gnawing at my soul.

I returned home, the house I had once thought was my home, now frighteningly cold. I looked at the familiar objects, the little corners of the house, and felt a savage sadness. I used to think I was part of this family, but now, I realize that I am just an outsider, someone who has been forgotten.

In the days that followed, I lived in emptiness. I still fulfill my duties as a wife and a mother, but everything happens like a machine. The smile on my lips disappeared completely, and my gaze became lifeless. I was no longer interested in anything. I felt like I had lost everything, I had lost faith in love, in fairness.

On her 49th day, when all the rituals were complete, I decided to make her bed. It’s my habit, every time I clean, I remember my mother, the days I took care of her. I gently removed the old frayed mat, and suddenly discovered an object under the mat. My heart was pounding. I trembled and reached out to touch it, it was a carefully sealed envelope, with my name on it.

A glimmer of hope flashed in my heart. I didn’t know what it was, but my hunch told me that this was something special. I trembled and opened the envelope, inside was a savings book in my name with an amount of nearly 2 billion VND. My eyes opened wide in surprise. Nearly 2 billion VND. An amount so large that I can’t believe it.

Attached to the savings book is a piece of paper with the old, trembling handwriting of her mother-in-law. I grabbed the piece of paper, my hands trembling. I took a deep breath, tried to stay calm, and then read each line: “My beloved daughter. This money is saved by the mother for her child. I am not my mother’s flesh and blood, but I am the one who loved my mother the most, took care of her every little bit when she was weak. My mother’s two biological daughters, they haven’t asked me how my mother has lived and died for the past few years. I want to hide the fact that I give him money so that his name is not dragged into disputes over the division of property. I love you like my own daughter. Please use this money to take care of your future and your grandchildren’s. I love you.”

After reading the letter, I sobbed. My tears are not because of money, but because of the extreme regret that I have tacitly blamed and misunderstood my mother-in-law’s heart during the past few days. As it turned out, she was not disgraceful at all, but only showed her love quietly and discreetly, protecting me from the intricacies of dividing property. She was worried about me, she thought about me, even when she was weak, even when she was leaving.

I held the savings book tightly to my heart, feeling that it was heavier than anything I had ever held in my life. Not only was it a savings book, but it also carried with it my mother-in-law’s boundless love, her deep understanding, and my belated remorse for her. I was too hasty to judge, too hastily to conclude. I let prejudices and negative thoughts cloud my mother’s compassionate heart.

My husband walked into the room, saw me sobbing, and he rushed over. I handed him the passbook and the letter. When he finished reading, his eyes were also swollen. He hugged me tightly in his arms, without saying a word. We cried together, tears of regret, of touch, and of happiness bursting out.

From that day on, my life seemed to be revitalized. I no longer felt empty, no longer felt unfair. Instead, it was a feeling of peace, a serenity in my soul. I learned a valuable lesson: love is not always expressed in words or public actions, but sometimes, it is hidden in silent gestures, discreet sacrifices.

I used the money my mother-in-law left to invest in a small project, a project that I had cherished for a long time. I wanted to turn that money into something meaningful, something that could help many others, to be worthy of my mother’s heart. I also spent more time with my family, my husband, and my children. I learned to listen, to understand, and to love more sincerely.

My relationship with my husband has become even stronger. He is always by my side, sharing all joys and sorrows. He is a solid support for me in all circumstances. Together we build a real home, where love, sharing, and gratitude are always present.

My mother-in-law’s two biological daughters, after learning about it, came to me. They apologized to me, apologized for being heartless, for not taking care of my mother. They also expressed regret for not understanding my mother’s heart. I didn’t blame them, just smiled and said that it was over. I believe that they also learned a valuable lesson from this incident.

My life is now full of happiness. I am no longer a daughter-in-law who only knows how to make silent sacrifices, but a strong, confident, and loving woman. I have found the meaning of life, I have found true happiness. And I know that my mother-in-law, even in the place of the nine springs, will smile with satisfaction when she sees me and my family happy. Her heart, her sacrifice, will forever be a warm fire that illuminates my path.