I traveled all the way from the countryside to the city to take care of my daughter-in-law as she prepared to give birth. I was so excited to personally care for both my child and grandchild. But by chance, I discovered a secret on my daughter-in-law’s phone that left me quietly packing up and going home…

One afternoon, while I was tidying up, my daughter-in-law’s phone rang on the table. I was about to pick it up and hand it to her, afraid it might get turned off by accident. But unintentionally, my eyes caught a name saved in her contacts.

On the day my daughter-in-law gave birth, I put everything aside in the countryside and came to the city with two suitcases full of clothes and lots of clean, homemade food, hoping she’d have everything she needed during her postpartum recovery. The bumpy ride had my mind restless with worry: “I wonder if she’ll be okay with our rural ways? Will she like the food I cook as her mother-in-law?”

The first grandchild—how could I not be excited? My son called with a cheerful voice:

– Mom, call me when you arrive so I can come pick you up.

As soon as I stepped into the house, my daughter-in-law was lying on the bed, breathing heavily, her face still pale from childbirth. I felt so sorry for her and gently said:

– Rest, dear. Let me tidy up and make some pork leg porridge for you.

On the first day of my postpartum stay, I cooked traditional dishes: pork leg porridge, sweet leaf soup, turmeric-braised pork… That night, I slept in the living room, while from the next room, where my son and daughter-in-law were, I could occasionally hear the baby crying. I got up early to prepare breakfast. I remembered the days when I gave birth to three children in a row — it was only my mother-in-law who took care of me. That memory made me feel even more love and sympathy for my daughter-in-law.

But after a few days, I noticed something strange. She started to avoid eye contact with me. Whenever something came up, she’d only speak to my son and never asked me directly for help. I thought, “Maybe she’s just shy. It’s her first time being a mom, after all.”

One afternoon, while I was tidying up, her phone rang on the table. I reached to hand it to her, afraid it might accidentally get cut off. But my eyes happened to catch the name saved on the screen.

“Old, strict mother-in-law.”

My heart skipped a beat. It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over me. I stood frozen for a few seconds. I asked myself, “Strict? In what way? Was it because I made her eat too much pork leg soup? Or because I kept reminding her to wear a hat, to put on more clothes?”

That evening, I sat in the living room, glancing around the small apartment my son had rented. The warm yellow light glowed, the air conditioner hummed softly, but my chest felt ice-cold. My daughter-in-law didn’t know that back in the countryside, I still worked part-time as a teacher. I had taken two months off just to come and care for her. I even borrowed extra money to buy gifts for my grandchild.

The next morning, I called my son aside and said:

“Mom has to go back home for a few days. The school called — something urgent came up.”

He looked surprised but didn’t ask too many questions. Once I was back in the countryside, I didn’t tell anyone what happened. I just quietly cried in the kitchen. I kept wondering what I had done wrong to be seen as a “strict mother-in-law.”

A few days later, my son called, his voice filled with concern:

“Mom, why did you leave so suddenly? My wife keeps crying, saying you must be upset and that you won’t come back again…”

I choked up. In the end, I decided to message my daughter-in-law directly:

“I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. If there’s anything bothering you, please don’t hesitate to tell me.”

Unexpectedly, my daughter-in-law called right away, her voice trembling with emotion:

– Mom… I’m sorry… I only saved your name like that to remind myself to be careful, because I was afraid I might speak disrespectfully by accident. I never thought badly of you. I’m so thankful to you…

She continued:

– It wasn’t until you came to stay with us that I realized just how much you had endured. I was only afraid you’d be upset, afraid you’d think I wasn’t grateful.

Hearing that, tears welled up in my eyes. It turned out, she never resented me. It was just a way young women these days remind themselves to be mindful.

The following week, I took the bus back to the city. My son and daughter-in-law came to pick me up at the station. Her hands were still in cold-weather gloves, her eyes slightly red, but her smile was bright:

– You’re home, Mom!

That evening, after she finished feeding the baby, my daughter-in-law quietly came to sit next to me:

– Mom, I’ve changed the name already. Now you’re “Best Mom Ever,” okay?

I burst out laughing, tears rolling down my cheeks. I realized that being a mother-in-law also means learning to be understanding—and learning to trust your daughter-in-law.
In the end, what remains is still love.