My name is Mai, 28 years old, a daughter-in-law in a big family. My husband’s household has nearly ten mouths to feed: my parents-in-law, my husband’s elder brother and his wife, their two little kids, plus my husband and me. Every day, I work from morning until late afternoon, and when I get home, I barely have time to catch my breath before rushing straight into the kitchen. After dinner, I’m stuck washing a mountain of dishes.

Many times I complained to my husband, but he only brushed it off:

“Just endure it, honey. That’s what happens when you live in a big family.”

Quietly, I saved every bit of my salary. After almost a year, I decided to buy a dishwasher—thinking it would at least ease my burden a little. The day I happily brought the machine home, before I could even install it, my mother-in-law glared at me and snapped:

“This family has never needed those useless, fancy things. A woman who’s lazy and doesn’t want to lift a finger—what kind of example is that? Such a waste of money!”

I froze, my chest tightening as my heart sank. All my exhaustion and bottled-up frustration came flooding back. I didn’t argue—I just quietly set the table as usual. But that day, I deliberately cooked a big meal with lots of fried and greasy dishes, leaving behind a pile of dirty plates and bowls.

After dinner, everyone walked away without lifting a hand, as always. I smirked faintly, clutched my stomach, pretended to feel dizzy, then dropped into a chair:

“I think I’m too tired… I’ve got such a headache…”

My mother-in-law sniffed dismissively:

“If you’re sick, then go rest. Just leave it. You can wash them tomorrow.”

I slipped quietly into the bedroom, leaving the sink overflowing with dirty dishes.

That night, around 11 p.m., I heard noises in the kitchen. I cracked the door open—and there he was. My husband, silently washing the heap of dishes, his hands trembling, his face twisted with fatigue. As he scrubbed, he sighed under his breath:

“What’s wrong with the dishwasher she bought… Why does Mom have to make things so hard?”

My eyes blurred with tears. The man I had blamed was also trapped—caught between his mother and his wife, too scared to speak up.

But the cruelest twist came the next morning. As the whole family sat down for breakfast, my mother-in-law suddenly pointed a finger straight at my face:

“Last night, you pretended to be sick just to make Tuan wash the dishes, didn’t you? Let me tell you—if you’re a daughter-in-law in this family, you’ll be washing dishes for life. Don’t even dream of relying on machines!”

I clenched my fists tightly. In that moment, I finally realized—the dishwasher I bought wasn’t just seen as “extravagant.” It had become a thorn in my in-laws’ eyes. And right then, I told myself: “Maybe what needs to change isn’t the machine… but my entire life.”