On the anniversary of my father-in-law’s death, my mother-in-law Aling Lourdes only took out ₱200 from her wallet and put it in my hand, then ordered me:

“Here, the money for the feast. Go to palengke and take care of it. If you don’t have enough, add more yourself. The eldest daughter-in-law must take care of everything.”

I was speechless. What could ₱200 do for an anniversary of Ernesto’s death? When relatives in Quezon City, Caloocan, and my husband’s family in Bulacan would definitely come in large numbers. I looked up, but my mother-in-law’s eyes were sharp as if everything was a given.

“Yes, I will take care of it.” I smiled faintly, but inside I was already burning with anger: Wanting to force me to withdraw my own money? I would not let her have her way.

The next morning, I really went to Kamuning Market. But instead of chicken, fish, and ham like every year, I chose the cheapest things in the ₱200 range: a bunch of kangkong, a few sheets of tokwa, some kamote, a few packs of pancit canton, and a bunch of herbs. The saleswoman was surprised:
— “Is this all you need for a death anniversary?”
— “Yes, that’s enough.” — I replied.

Back home, I started cooking: deep-fried tokwa, boiled kangkong to dip in soy sauce, stir-fried pancit canton with a few stalks of vegetables, sweet potato soup. Only four dishes, all as “common” as possible.

By noon, all the relatives had arrived. Everyone thought the offerings would be neat and tidy in the Filipino style: litson manok, adobo, full pancit, lumpia… My mother-in-law calmly continued the conversation, clearly believing that I would spend my own money to take care of everything.

When I brought the tray down to the middle of the room, the whole room stared in surprise…on the tray was…On the tray was boiled kangkong, fried tokwa, stir-fried pancit canton and kamote soup. No chicken, no fish, no lumpia.

Ate Marissa and Janelle gasped:
— “Eh… this is… a memorial tray?”

I calmly said:
— “Yes. Mom gave me ₱200, I calculated everything. This is all that money can buy.”

All eyes turned to Aling Lourdes. She paused, stammering:
— “Oh… then don’t you add more? The eldest daughter-in-law has to be responsible…”

I smiled, speaking loudly enough for the whole family to hear:
— “I really want to prepare a decent feast for Mang Ernesto’s father. But I think: I am the daughter-in-law, I do as my mother says. Mother gives ₱200, so I do exactly that amount. If I add more myself, if others misunderstand that mother doesn’t take care of everything, it will be a sin for mother. I don’t dare let mother get a bad name.”

The whole family whispered. Some of the relatives laughed, some shook their heads:
— “Oh my god, it’s the anniversary of your death and you only give ₱200. How can you expect her to cook? It’s only natural that she would do that.”

The mother-in-law’s face turned red, angry but unable to refute.

At that moment, the youngest uncle Tito Ben stood up and said clearly:
— “The memorial service is a family affair, not something to be pushed onto the daughter-in-law alone. Each person has to do their part to make a decent meal. If you do that, you will only make the whole family laugh.”

The atmosphere changed. Those who were always picky also nodded, admitting that I had handled it too well.

Finally, to save face, the mother-in-law had to quickly tell Janelle to run to the palengke to buy more litson manok, some fish to make paksiw or sinigang to complete the tray. But at this point, everyone could see her stinginess; no one blamed me anymore.

That night, the mother-in-law quietly entered my room, her voice lowered:
— “You… made me lose face today.”

I looked straight at her:
— “I only did what you told me to do. If you really value dad, next time please give more of your heart.”

She was silent.

That day, I understood: when people deliberately impose and take advantage of me, the best way to fight back is not to get angry, but to let them reveal themselves to everyone. And I did it.