When it came to meals, she criticized bluntly, picking at everything before and after eating. Clothes were thrown around carelessly. She came home late from outings, slammed the door loudly, paying no attention to anyone.

I was both upset and saddened, thinking to myself: someone who had just been abandoned by her husband, with nowhere else to go, should have reflected on her behavior—instead…

Since the day I married into the family, the person who made me most uncomfortable wasn’t my mother-in-law, but my sister-in-law, Thu. Thu married a wealthy city man, spoiled and pampered, living in a luxurious home, riding in a fancy car, so she always acted superior. Every time she came back to the village, her voice was sharp, her eyes darting side to side, criticizing everything—from the clothes I wore to the food I cooked. Once, she even snapped at me:
“You married my brother but don’t know how to dress up? If you stay this plain and outdated, how will you keep your husband?”

I felt both humiliated and angry, but I just smiled it off.

Thu spent money like water, loved buying luxury goods, and constantly traveled to post check-ins. Once, in front of relatives, she arrogantly boasted:
“I never have to calculate every penny like Hoa. My husband makes the money, and my job is just to be clever enough so he’ll hand it all over to me.”

Her words reeked of mockery and excessive bragging, belittling others. Still, I endured it, telling myself that as the sister-in-law, I should avoid conflicts to keep the household peaceful.

But life turned unexpectedly. Just last month, I was shocked to hear that Thu had been thrown out by her husband’s family. The bearer of the news was an aunt from my mother’s side, who said Thu’s husband had grown utterly tired of her reckless spending and neglect of their children. Worse, she had accumulated debts from overindulgent shopping. Finally, he filed for divorce and drove Thu out of the house.

I couldn’t believe it—the once arrogant sister-in-law had fallen into such misery.

Two days later, Thu showed up dragging her suitcase, returning to her parents’ home. My mother-in-law, heartbroken for her daughter, asked my husband and me to let Thu stay with us for a while. I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t openly refuse.

Unexpectedly, the moment Thu stepped into the house, she lifted her chin high and demanded in a sharp tone:
“Sis, make sure you arrange a proper room for me. I’m used to living spaciously, I can’t stand cramped places. And keep the room clean—change the bedsheets with a new set. I won’t use your old ones.”

Hearing that, I was so furious I wanted to snap back:
“Do you still have the right to make demands?”
But instead, I gritted my teeth and kept silent.

In the days that followed, Thu stayed at my house without the slightest sense of consideration. She openly criticized every meal, picked at the food, scattered her clothes all over the place, came home late at night, slammed the door shut, and acted as if no one else existed.

I was both upset and saddened, thinking: a woman who has just been abandoned by her husband, with nowhere else to turn, should have reflected on herself. Yet she still kept that arrogant attitude, treating her sister-in-law like a servant—who could tolerate that?

One time, I tried to advise her:
“Now you should start thinking differently, try to live more simply so you can rebuild your life.”

But Thu glared at me, slapped the table, and snapped:
“You think I’m as lowly as you? I can easily find a man far richer than him, many times over.”

Her words made me tremble with anger—I wanted nothing more than to throw her out of the house that very moment.

I felt utterly exhausted, having to shoulder the presence of such an ungrateful and arrogant person in a home that was already small and cramped. But if I drove her out, surely my mother-in-law would blame me. If I kept enduring, I feared that one day my silence would explode into an argument beyond repair.

What should I do?