I am the youngest daughter-in-law, I got married into my husband’s family exactly 5 years after my eldest sister-in-law.

From the day I stepped into this family in Jaipur, I have been labeled “worthless”.

I can’t cook as good as my sister, speak as good as my sister, and take care of my mother-in-law.

Every week, my eldest sister-in-law Priya regularly brings a large tiffin, with a carefully written note on the outside:

“Indian Ginseng Chicken Stew”, “Goat hoof soup made from lotus seeds for mother’s health benefits”, “Rohu fish porridge with red rice”.

My mother-in-law, Kamala, breaks down in tears every time she opens the lid and never forgets to tease me:

“Like Neha, who clings to her husband’s skirt all day, she can’t even make porridge!”

I’m used to hearing that. But “getting addicted” doesn’t necessarily mean accepting it, I’m just waiting for the day when everything will be revealed.

One Saturday morning, I went to the market at the end of the street and heard shopkeepers whisper:
“Mrs. Kamala’s darling looks so strong.
“Yesterday, I saw her wearing a shredded saree, smiling and flirting with the Ayurvedic chemist mistress, then asking for pieces of bones to make porridge.
“She said she’s cooking for her mother-in-law.” If you eat it, one day…”

I was stunned.

Priya worked as an accountant in a large Ayurvedic medicine shop near the market, which was famous for its gentleness and humility.
Impossible…? Or… Totally possible?

Cold water
from the neighbours That afternoon, when Priya had just left her mother-in-law with a tiffin of fish porridge,
Mrs. Shanti – a close neighbour – secretly came to my house:
“I am asking you, have you ever opened your elder daughter-in-law’s tiffin?”

“He brought the food and I ate it, why should I check?” I trust my son!”

“Believe it or not, I saw him take out porridge from a bad pot, reheat it at the drugstore and put it in tiffin.

And that’s not all… He even added some finely ground sleeping pills to it!”

— “What?!” – Mrs. Kamala was stunned, her hands trembling.

The truth
under the tinfine lid My mother-in-law and I ran into the kitchen.
He opened the tiffin of the hot fish porridge, his hands trembling as he shook it to the bottom.

Immediately, a strong smell arose.

I tried to pick up a few pieces of fish from underneath and found that it was moldy, smelled fishy, and had black bones.

There were still a few white tablets in the lower compartment that had not dissolved completely.

“Could it be… Is that true?” – Mrs. Kamala choked up.

Face-to-face
that afternoon, he called the whole family home. My husband’s brother (Priya’s husband) was on a business trip.

Priya came, still greeting softly:

“Mom, what do you want to tell me?”

Mrs. Kamala, without turning a word, threw the empty tiffin straight to the table.

“What are you feeding me?!”

Priya pretends to be surprised:

— “Rohu fish porridge, Mom, didn’t you like it?”

“Do you think I’m old, am I crazy?”

Are you trying to poison me with rotten food and sleeping pills?”

Priya’s face turned pale.

I showed him a picture of a pile of moldy bones and a clip of the salesman’s eye-witness story.

Priya got down on her knees and started crying:

— “I… To pardon… I didn’t mean to hurt you…

I’m just going through a tough time, and I’m pregnant…”

The whole family was stunned.
Pregnant? But Priya and her husband had been living separately for more than two months.

I decided to go “completely” while gritting my teeth.

I pulled out the text message from Priya’s phone that I accidentally left:

“Don’t worry, I’ve hidden it well. Everyone still thinks it’s your baby. ”

“If I tell them at the drugstore that this is Deepak’s baby, we will both be ruined!”

The whole room exploded,
Priya started crying holding her stomach.

Mrs. Kamala was stunned and almost fainted.

I stood there silently, as if I had paid off all my debts.

Priya was thrown out of the house that night.

From then on, my mother-in-law didn’t take sides and asked me to go to the market every day to cook with them.

Once he took me by the hand and said with tears in his eyes:

“From now on, I will only trust people who are honest with me…”

I was neither happy nor sad.

I just thought: there’s no need to compete for credit in this life, I just have to be patient enough to wait for the day when the truth will come out.