The couple had been together for more than ten years. After countless treatments, countless times of hoping and then being disappointed, at last, a miracle came. The day the doctor announced that the wife was pregnant, the two of them burst into tears right there in the hospital. And their happiness doubled when they learned it was twins—two little baby girls. Relatives and neighbors came to congratulate them endlessly; everyone said: “It’s truly a blessing from heaven, just seeing the faces of those two children makes the whole family shine.”

Since the grandchildren were born, the grandmother also seemed to change. She laughed and talked more, always insisting on holding and rocking the babies to sleep. Every night she would suggest: “Let them sleep over here with me, so you two can rest. I’m old already, this is my only joy.” Thinking she truly loved the babies, the couple felt reassured. The mother even had tears in her eyes, telling herself: “With her helping, I won’t be so exhausted.”

But life sometimes hides dark corners no one can foresee.

One afternoon, while working at the company, the husband’s phone rang frantically. As soon as he picked up, he heard the panicked voice of a neighbor: “Come home right away! Something terrible has happened to the little ones… Grandmother… she did something unbelievable!”

Both husband and wife froze. Their faces went pale, their hearts pounding wildly. Without even ending the call, they rushed out of the office, speeding their motorbike through the suffocating wind. That road felt endless, every second stretched like an eternity. Along the way, the sound of crying and shouting through the phone echoed, each note like a knife cutting into their hearts. The wife trembled, tears streaming, her lips mumbling prayers: “Please, please, don’t let anything happen to my children… please…”

The moment they stepped into the house, the sight before them left them petrified. The two little girls were screaming in terror, their faces purple, their tiny hands flailing in the air as if begging for help. The neighbors had rushed in, tearing the babies away from the grandmother’s arms. The wife stumbled forward, trembling as she grabbed her daughters, sobbing as she tried to soothe them: “Oh my God, my babies… who did this to you?”

The grandmother looked like someone possessed. Her eyes were bloodshot, her hair in disarray, her mouth muttering broken, incoherent words—half anger, half resentment. An elderly neighbor whispered, her own voice shaking: “If we hadn’t heard the strange crying, if we hadn’t rushed in time… who knows what horror would have happened.”

As it turned out, the grandmother had been harboring resentment all along. She had longed for a grandson, someone to “carry on the family line.” But when she learned her daughter-in-law had given birth to two girls, outwardly she doted on them, but inside she seethed with bitterness and envy. Every night when she asked for the babies to sleep with her, it wasn’t to care for them—it was to vent her frustration with harsh words, pinches, and scoldings, small cruelties the young couple never noticed.

And then that day, when her illness relapsed, all the pent-up anger exploded. In her frenzy, she lost control and did the unthinkable. The entire neighborhood was shaken, unable to believe that the once gentle woman had turned into this.

The husband stood frozen, watching his mother held down by neighbors, while his wife clutched the children and wept uncontrollably. Inside him was an agonizing struggle: on one side was his own mother, who had given him life and raised him; on the other side were his two newborn daughters. He didn’t know whom to side with, didn’t even know what words could come out of his mouth. His eyes darted from his mother—confusion and sorrow brimming—to his daughters, his heart ripped in two.

The wife felt like she had fallen into an abyss. For years, she had trusted and felt grateful to her mother in law, thinking she was lucky to have a grandmother who loved her grandchildren so much. But now, that trust was shattered. She clutched her daughters tighter, her tears soaking their innocent faces, choking out: “Why… why would you do this? What have my children done to deserve it?”

That night, the house was drowned in grief. The babies’ cries, the father’s heavy sighs, the mother’s terrifying silence—all blended into a family tragedy with no way out. The grandmother was taken away in helplessness, while the young couple held their two babies, their hearts torn into countless pieces.

Life can be cruelly ironic. The person they trusted the most, the one they thought would be their greatest support, had become the most ruthless threat. They realized with unbearable pain that sometimes tragedy doesn’t come from the outside world—it sprouts from within the very bonds of blood.

The haunting question hung in the air, unanswered: “Why would she do such a thing to her own family’s blood?”

From that day, the house no longer echoed with carefree laughter. No matter how much the couple tried, the shadow of that day weighed heavy on their hearts. The husband lay awake through endless nights, staring into the darkness, unable to sleep: on one side was his mother, on the other his daughters—which side should he choose, whom should he protect? The wife, too, held the children tightly in her arms, waking up startled from nightmares that returned again and again.

Neighbors passing by whispered with pity. Some blamed the grandmother’s cruelty, others said it was a cruel twist of fate—illness and outdated traditions festering together until a woman turned into something monstrous. But whatever the cause, the wound in the young couple’s hearts would never fully heal.

In the end, the heaviest burden did not lie in what the law or public opinion would say, but in the choices of those directly involved. Would they forgive her, or carry the hatred forever? Would they keep silent to protect the family’s honor, or speak out to protect their children’s future?

And so, the question still lingers in the air, like an unsettling echo for anyone who hears this story: If one day you were in that situation—between filial duty and parental instinct, between being a child and being a parent—what would you choose?

Disclaimer: This story is presented from the perspective of someone recounting personal experiences. All details are described exactly as they occurred in the narrator’s life, though some elements may feel extraordinary. Readers are invited to immerse themselves in the events and emotions, without questioning authenticity. Any similarities to real people or events are naturally possible and not coincidental.