Mother-in-Law Opens Gift Box Left by Daughter-in-Law After Divorce — Breaks Down in Tears, Rushed to Hospital/th

It was a box my daughter-in-law had left behind after the divorce, neatly placed in the drawer with a small note:
“I’m sorry I couldn’t make you happy, Mom.”

All my life, I held on to one belief — that a family must have a male heir. Because when there is a man in the house, everything becomes easier.

Now, I deeply regret having let go of a “precious treasure.”

So when my son got married, I gently reminded him to plan for a baby boy right from the start, just to be safe. The next children, boy or girl, wouldn’t matter.
But my daughter-in-law gave birth to three daughters in a row.

A house full of grandchildren is joyful — but the sadness of not having a male heir haunted me constantly. When I went out, my friends would proudly show off their grandsons who would carry on the family name. They looked at me and jokingly asked, “Still no heir yet?”
I would smile awkwardly, but deep down, I felt miserable.

My daughter-in-law was kind and respectful. But just because she couldn’t give us a son, I began to dislike her. I picked on her for everything — especially after I asked them to try for a fourth child and use gender selection to ensure it would be a boy, but she refused.

She said every child is a child, all equally precious. But I kept pressuring her, blaming her, creating tension between her and my son. My son also became short-tempered and often yelled at her.

From being a fairly reasonable mother-in-law, I turned bitter and harsh whenever I saw her. I accused her of not respecting her husband’s and mother-in-law’s wishes. The conflict between us grew more and more severe.

It was those words, those glances, that constant invisible pressure — that slowly killed their happiness.
Then one day, they told me they were getting a divorce. I began to worry.
My son stayed silent, while my daughter-in-law only asked for one thing: custody of all three daughters.

I didn’t try to stop the divorce, because deep down I still thought:
“Let my son marry someone else, find a proper male heir for me.”

But life didn’t go as I had hoped. After the divorce, my son withdrew into himself — he didn’t date anyone, and he never spoke about having children again. Within two months, he lost a significant amount of weight, grew thin and hollow-eyed, unable to eat or sleep properly — tormented by regret and longing for his wife and children.

Months passed, and I began to feel an emptiness in my own home. I went through old photos of my grandchildren to reminisce. That’s when I stumbled upon a box in a drawer.

It was the box my daughter-in-law had left for me before she left the house after the divorce — something I had carelessly forgotten about. My hands trembled as I opened it. Inside was a small note that read:
“I’m sorry I couldn’t make you happy, Mom.”

Beneath the note was a handwritten birthday card for me, a few bottles of supplements for my chronic shoulder pain, three notebooks filled with detailed records of my medical appointments, prescriptions, and dietary plans over the years — and photos of my three granddaughters.

I broke down in tears.

Memories flooded back — the times she washed my hair, patiently massaged my shoulders when I was in pain, cooked porridge for me when I was sick. And yet, I had driven away this “treasure” with my own hands, all because of an obsession called “male heir.”

I had discarded all her care and kindness simply because of the “crime” of not giving me a grandson.

Now, all I have left is regret — and memories I can never return to. My three granddaughters still visit from time to time — polite, sweet, and well-behaved — but I can’t bring myself to look at them for too long. Every time I do, my heart aches, knowing I heartlessly pushed them away from our family.

Now that I’m ill, no one takes care of me. Even my son neglects me, preoccupied with drinking and hanging out with friends.

My daughter-in-law never rejected our family. She never stopped the children from seeing their grandmother or their father. But she made her choice — she’s not coming back.
I was wrong. So wrong that it cannot be undone.

All I want now is one more chance — but it’s already too late.

If I could turn back time, I would only want to say one thing to my daughter-in-law:
“I’m sorry — to you, and to the children.”