I am 30 years old and work as a sales team leader for a large company. Thanks to hard work and knowing how to seize opportunities, my average monthly income is about ₱120,000. For me, this is the result of many years of hard work, but for my mother-in-law, it has become an excuse for her to “arrange” my life the way she wants. One day, when I heard my phone conversation about my monthly salary, my mother-in-law’s eyes lit up. She said,
“If you are good at making money, you have to worry about your husband’s family. Starting tomorrow, my mother has called my three brothers-in-law from the province to live together. In a poor rural area, going to the city with a sister-in-law to take care of you won’t be so miserable.”

To my surprise, before I had time to react, just a few days later, my three brothers-in-law arrived with their belongings. Suddenly, the apartment that was big enough for my wife and I became cramped.

From the morning, I had to make breakfast for the whole family, come home from work with rice, water, cleaning, and laundry. The three sisters-in-law did not move their hands, just lying down and watching TV or surfing the phone without worrying after eating. Her mother-in-law also said bluntly:
“They went to the city to study, and they will be good in the future. If your son-in-law earns ₱120,000, he is considered the blessing of this house, try to take care of it.”

I nodded and looked at my wife, hoping she would speak. But she was silent, still joking:
“I am a bit stubborn, children in the countryside are still different. It seems to help the family.”

Every day, I am like a tireless machine. The work at the company is already forced, and when I go home, I have to serve five or six more people. No, thank you, just blame and demand.

One night, just after I got home from my shift, I saw my youngest brother-in-law sitting cross-legged in the middle of the living room, raising his voice and ordering:
“Sister-in-law, I’m hungry, prepare me some noodles to eat.”

I was dumbfounded. In his mother-in-law’s eyes, there was no sympathy, only contempt. At that moment, my heart felt like it was going to explode. I tried to be patient, but the more I endured, the more they considered it a duty.

That night, I took my suitcase back to my hometown. No strong words, no explanation. I just left a piece of paper:
“I’ll be back with my parents in a few days.”

The next day, without me, the house immediately became a mess. The next morning, no one cooked, and the wives struggled to buy instant noodles. The clothes were piled up and no one was washing them, the dishes and chopsticks were messy in the sink.

At noon, my mother-in-law, who was used to eating decent soup, now sat and sighed, looking at the spacious kitchen. The whole family started rummaging, everyone was pushing to work.

Late at night, Mr. Huy – my husband – came home from work, saw that the house was dirty, and his face was already sunken. He called me repeatedly, but I didn’t listen. After just one day, they tasted the feeling of absence from me, which they used to consider “free space”.

In my hometown, I lived with the love of my parents. In the morning, there was a bowl of hot rice, and in the afternoon, someone was talking and asking questions. I felt peaceful, different from the noisy and tiring scene in my husband’s house.

Three days later, my husband returned, his face very tired:
“Sister, I’m sorry. At home, no one is doing anything, and my mother also admitted that it’s too much. Go home, the house can’t do without you.”

I calmly replied,
“I won’t leave home, but I won’t continue to live in a situation where I’m being taken advantage of. If there’s still a scene of begging for beans, treating me like a slave, then you and I won’t come back.”

Mr. Huy silently bowed his head. I knew, only when I left would they understand my true worth.

When I returned to the apartment, my three brothers-in-law were gone. The house was clean and tidy. My mother-in-law was sitting and waiting for me in the living room, her eyes were different, a little shy:
“Mom… I thought about it again. I’ve been working for a long time. From now on, this house will no longer be forced to drink. Consider it a real home.”

I just smiled. The pain didn’t go away immediately, but at least, my silence and decisive departure woke them up.

I didn’t have to scream, I didn’t have to squirm. Because sometimes, the strongest answer is to leave silently – so that they can see the empty scene in their absence.

And then, they will understand: the woman in the family is not a shadow, let alone a slave