When my older brother brought his wife home to meet the family, everyone immediately noticed how selfish she was and how she looked down on our relatives. But Father defended her in a way none of us could understand. Many years later, the whole family was stunned when the truth about what she had done finally came to light…

He still remembered that afternoon when his brother led a strange young woman into the house. She was stylish, dressed in luxury, her high heels clattering against the old tiled floor, and her arrogant gaze seemed to say that this worn-down home was unworthy of her presence. Mother glanced at Father with a flicker of worry on her face, but she said nothing. The dinner table that evening was heavy with silence; only the shrill laugh of the new bride made Father chuckle with delight. He sat quietly, secretly observing her every gesture, feeling a sharp discomfort gnawing inside.

His brother introduced his wife with pride, as though he had found a rare treasure. But the more he spoke, the more she acted indifferent, her eyes sweeping disdainfully across the simple dishes on the table. “I guess your family doesn’t often eat seafood, right? I’m used to imported fresh food,” she remarked, leaving Mother red-faced with shame. Father quickly waved it off: “That’s nothing—whatever you want in the future, just tell me, I can provide.” Hearing that, he nearly stood up and left, but held back so as not to disrupt the moment further.

In the days that followed, everyone came to see her true nature. She never helped Mother cook or clean, spending hours only on grooming and staring into the mirror. When visitors came, she would speak as if trying to prove her superiority, boasting about branded goods and exotic vacations, irritating the whole neighborhood. Mother grew sad, his brother tried to keep peace, but Father defended his daughter-in-law at all costs. “A daughter-in-law should be spoiled; she’s used to a good life, don’t force her,” he would often say.

Once at dinner, when Mother accidentally spilled soup on the table, she wrinkled her nose and scolded: “Honestly, how many times have I said this? Be careful. You’re so clumsy.” The whole family froze, but Father immediately snapped: “Don’t talk back to your wife—she’s right.” His brother sat silently, sadness flickering in his eyes, before bowing his head over his rice bowl. Watching this, he felt as if Father was slowly pushing the family away, all to please an outsider. Mother quietly swallowed her tears, while he could only grip his chopsticks tightly.

He had often tried to persuade Father to see her true nature, but Father dismissed him. “You’re still young, you don’t understand. She’s beautiful, modern—that’s what suits today’s world.” Hearing those words, he felt nothing but disheartened, wondering since when Father had begun judging people solely by appearances. Whenever neighbors gossiped, Father proudly boasted that his son had married a beautiful, high-class wife. As for the cracks in the family, he pretended not to see them.

As the years went by, the conflict between Mother and the daughter-in-law only deepened. Once, when Mother fell ill and was bedridden, the woman didn’t show the slightest concern. Instead of caring, she complained: “Why get sick now of all times? I had plans for a holiday trip.” And yet Father defended her again: “She’s right—you need to take better care of your health so your daughter-in-law doesn’t have to worry.” Mother turned away in silence, and he felt his throat tighten, unable to utter a single word.

His older brother grew thinner with each passing day, perhaps because he had to shoulder both work and family burdens. His wife, however, continued to spend lavishly, never once thinking of sharing the load. Every time conflict arose, Father forced his son to yield, insisting it was a man’s duty. “Women are weak; they must rely on their husbands,” Father would say, never realizing that this daughter-in-law thought only of herself. He watched his brother slowly lose all joy, becoming nothing more than a silent shadow in his own home.

Then one day, everything collapsed. The woman ran off with a wealthy man, leaving behind a cold house and a sick husband. His brother was devastated—years of sacrifice and endurance had ended in bitter betrayal. Father panicked, torn between rage and disbelief, searching everywhere for her but in vain. Mother only sighed, as if she had foreseen this outcome all along. He stood by, torn between pity for his brother and sharp pain at Father’s blindness.

The days that followed were the heaviest of all. His brother lay bedridden, his weary eyes drained of any will to rise again. Father sat by his side, hands trembling, whispering: “I was wrong… I trusted the wrong person.” But the confession came too late—the wounds in his son’s heart were far too deep. Mother cared for him quietly, without complaint, her tears soaking the pillows. His own chest tightened, filled with anger, sorrow, and helplessness.

One evening, as the house glowed under dim yellow light, Father called him over. “Son, I know I was blind… I thought that having a beautiful, wealthy daughter-in-law would bring honor to the family.” Father’s voice was hoarse, his gaze distant, heavy with regret. He sat in silence, unsure of what to say, for over the years Father had gradually pushed them all into suffering. The feeling of wanting to forgive yet being unable to erase the wounds left his heart in turmoil.

He thought of all the years the family lived in tension, of those cold, heavy meals. He thought of Mother, the tireless woman who endured everything without a single complaint. He thought of his brother, who had sacrificed his youth to please Father, only to lose everything in the end. And he thought of Father, once their pillar of strength, now left with nothing but belated remorse. In that moment, he suddenly realized that appearances and wealth had never been the true foundation of a home.

With a sigh, he softly said: “Father, the greatest value is not money or prestige. Family love is what truly sustains people, what keeps us together until the very end.” Father bowed his head, tears streaming down his face, shoulders shaking. The house fell into silence, broken only by the wind outside the eaves, as if repeating the bitter lesson they had all paid dearly for. He knew these wounds would never fully heal—but at least, Father had finally recognized what should have been clear long ago.