I still remember clearly the day I brought my wife home to meet my parents. My parents, who had spent their whole lives working in the fields, in the sun and wind of their homeland, were very proud to see their daughter-in-law from the city, who was tall, fair-skinned, and spoke well and politely. Everyone praised me for being lucky. At that time, I myself thought so too, even a little complacent. Love is not about material things, but when I heard everyone’s exclamations, I naively believed that I had “fallen into a jar of rice”.

On the wedding day, all my friends and relatives came. She was gorgeous in her wedding dress, her smile as bright as a flower. Everyone was amazed and said I was lucky. Her family was well-off, had a small factory, a few houses for rent, and a comfortable life. I was still a bit naive, believing that in the future our lives would be paved with my wife’s parents’ money, and we would no longer have to struggle to make a living.

My wife is an only child, a spoiled young lady, but she has never been arrogant or looked down on me. On the contrary, she has always been gentle, caring and loving towards me. That makes me love my wife even more and be proud of myself. I think that life in the future will certainly be sweet and peaceful, without worrying about food and money, without worrying about the burdens of life.

But the truth was different. Apart from the dowry of a gold bar that my wife’s parents gave me, I didn’t see any other support. The house that they said they gave us turned out to be in my wife’s name only. I didn’t care too much, telling myself that as long as I had a free place to live and didn’t have to worry about rent, it was fine. After all, my wife and I lived together, and her house was also my house. However, deep down, I still felt a little disappointed.

Married life was sweet, until my wife got pregnant.

It was a great joy, but also the beginning of trouble. She firmly refused to live with her mother-in-law, fearing that the conflict between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law would affect her mood and the baby in her womb. I respected my wife’s decision, although I felt a little sad. I knew that my parents in the countryside were always looking forward to their first grandchild.

My wife suggested that her parents come live with her so that they could take care of her. I initially thought it was a good idea. At least they would help my wife during her pregnancy and childbirth. I even secretly hoped that, with our good economic conditions, they would help my wife and I financially, especially since we were about to have a new member, and our expenses would increase significantly.

So they moved in with us. It was a sunny weekend. They brought a few small suitcases, and from then on, my house was no longer just the two of us. Our lives changed completely. At first, everything was fine, my wife was well taken care of, everything in the house was managed by my mother-in-law. I still thought that their presence was necessary.

But then, a month, two months, then a year passed. They were still there. Three years later, it was still them, still in this house. My child could walk and talk, but my wife’s parents still had no intention of moving back to their own house. They ate and lived with us, but never spent a single penny. All living expenses, from electricity, water, groceries, to milk and diapers for the child, were shouldered by me.

Every time I came back from the market and looked at the bill, I felt heavy. My salary, that of a normal wage earner, was nothing compared to those expenses. I began to feel suffocated and uncomfortable. I saw my in-laws as stingy and calculating. They had the means, but they depended on their son-in-law. I felt so pitiful, being taken advantage of and unable to speak up.

I have hinted to my wife many times, wanting her to tell her parents to share a little. But in return, she only got cold eyes and sharp words like knives. She said, “If my parents don’t give me money, they will give me effort. What can your parents do for us?” That sentence was like a bucket of cold water thrown in my face. It hurt me, but also made me speechless. I couldn’t open my mouth to kick my parents out of the house, especially when my wife was an only child, she always valued her parents above all else.

The dissatisfaction and anger grew inside me. I tried to swallow it, tried to smile and show my gratitude to them. Every time they went out with friends, they proudly showed off their kind and filial son-in-law. My friends also said that I was clever and won the hearts of my in-laws. Little did they know that every smile of mine was fake, every word of gratitude was forced.

Then one day, I received a phone call from my hometown. My younger brother’s voice was trembling, telling me that my mother had fallen badly and needed urgent surgery. My ears were ringing, my head was spinning. The doctor said the surgery would cost 300 million VND. 300 million! A huge amount for a salaried worker like me. I had saved a small amount, but it was just a drop in the bucket.

I ran around everywhere, borrowing from friends and colleagues. But everyone had their own difficulties. I was desperate, feeling helpless and useless. The worry for my mother and the feeling of helplessness squeezed my heart. I stood in front of my mother’s hospital bed, seeing her thin and pale, tears welling up in my eyes. I wondered, after all these years of struggling, what did I have in the end?

At that moment, my wife’s parents called and said they wanted to visit my mother. My heart suddenly tightened. I was already confused, and even more frustrated, thinking that they had come just to bother me. I was afraid that they would ask questions, afraid that they would see my misery. But on the surface, I still had to show gratitude. I greeted them at the hospital gate, my heart filled with exhaustion and frustration.

They entered the hospital room, looking at my mother with concern. My mother-in-law held my mother’s hand, asking her every question. My father-in-law calmly asked the doctor about her condition. I stood by, silent, feeling invisible. I just wanted them to leave quickly, so I could be alone to gnaw at my despair.

After visiting my mother, they pulled me out into the hallway. My father-in-law looked at me, his eyes full of concern. He didn’t say much, just quietly pulled a bank card from his pocket and stuffed it into my hand. “Son, the money in here should be enough to take care of your mother. If it’s not enough, sell the house in the countryside. Take care of your mother first.” His voice was deep and caring.

I was bewildered, not understanding what was happening. “What money?” I stammered. My mother-in-law also looked at me, her voice as calm as ever. “We’ve lived in your house for several years, it didn’t cost anything. This money was originally saved for you, in case of need. We don’t have a son, you are our son.”

Those words made me choke. My eyes blurred. I looked at the bank card in my hand, then at the gentle faces of my in-laws. The people I used to blame and despise for their stinginess. Who would have thought that they would silently endure my contempt, still wholeheartedly take care of my wife and children, and then when needed, withdraw all the money they had saved their whole life and give it to me.

I felt my cheeks burning, suddenly feeling extremely ashamed. What did I think of them? I looked at them with narrow, selfish eyes. I thought they were living off me. But the truth is, they were secretly worried about our future. They lived frugally to save this money, not spending a single penny of mine. The monthly expenses increased, not because of their food and accommodation, but because they always bought the best things for their daughter and grandchild, things that I never paid attention to.

Tears fell down my face. I hugged my father-in-law, then my mother-in-law. Shame and regret welled up in my heart. I knew I was wrong, I had looked at people with such narrow-mindedness. I felt so terrible. They had sacrificed everything for me, for our little family, and I had no idea.

I accepted the card, and my mother’s surgery was a success. Seeing my mother wake up, I felt like my life was coming back to life. I promised myself that from now on I would work harder to pay back the money. But more than that, I would love and care for my in-laws as if they were my own parents. Because they taught me a great lesson about love, sacrifice and forgiveness.

Since then, everything has changed. I no longer feel suffocated when living with my wife’s parents. On the contrary, I feel peaceful and happy. Family meals are no longer awkward silences, but filled with laughter. I no longer see my wife’s parents as stingy, but as people who live simply and economically. They are not only my wife’s parents, but have become my second parents. And I, from someone who once thought I was “a mouse falling into a jar of rice”, have truly become a lucky and blessed son-in-law.