I was married to Hitesh for five years. Life in our family was not always peaceful, but I always considered myself lucky to have such a caring mother-in-law. She was courteous, rarely interfered in our affairs, and often gave wise advice.
Recently, I had been exhausted from work and feeling depressed because my husband was busy from morning till night and had almost no time for me. One evening, noticing my fatigue, my mother-in-law, Mrs. Sarla, invited me into the living room and placed a thick envelope in front of me.
‘Here,’ she said. ‘There are two million rupees here. Take a break and go to Europe. Go away for a few weeks, then come back and think about your life.’
I was completely baffled. My mother-in-law had never given me such a large sum of money or offered me a trip before. At the time, I was touched — I thought she really cared about me. But soon I was overcome with doubts: why was she suggesting I leave now?
Nevertheless, I decided to follow her advice and packed my bags. I bought a ticket departing from Terminal 3 of IGI Airport. Hitesh didn’t object — he just said, ‘Take a break, Mum will take care of everything.’ These words made me even more anxious.
On the day of my departure, my mother-in-law accompanied me to the exit, giving me various pieces of advice. I hugged her goodbye with a strange smile. As soon as she turned away, I made a decision: I would pretend to leave, but I would come back secretly to find out what was going on in the house while I was away.
I took a taxi to DLF Phase 3, got out a few hundred metres from the house and walked the rest of the way. As I approached the end of the alley, my heart began to beat faster. The door was open and laughter could be heard inside. I pressed myself against the wall and peered inside.
What I saw left me speechless: in the living room, Hitesh was sitting next to a young woman with her hair tied back in a ponytail, dressed in bright clothes. She had her head on his shoulder and was laughing and talking as if she were at home. And what shocked me most was that Mrs. Sarla was there too. She didn’t object at all — on the contrary, she served food, beaming with joy, and smiled as she said:
“My daughter-in-law has left. Now you can relax. I just hope someone will take care of Hitisha. Ria is a good girl. I love her very much.
My ears were ringing. Everything became clear: this ‘trip’ she had organised was just a ploy to get me out of the house and make room for someone else. Those two million rupees were just a way to silence me — a consolation gift so that I would leave without a fuss.
I didn’t go home that night. I booked a small hotel room in Karol Bagh (New Delhi) and spent the whole night tossing and turning in bed. It was painful, but I didn’t let the situation break me. I knew that if I kept quiet, I would be the only one suffering.
The next morning, I contacted a solicitor in Saket, learned about the property division process, and began the necessary procedures. I also asked a trusted acquaintance to gather clear evidence. I wanted everything to be as transparent as possible.
An unexpected return
Two weeks later, while they were still thinking that I was enjoying Europe, I walked into the living room with my solicitor and a folder of documents in my hands. All three of them turned pale. Hitesh stammered, Mrs. Sarla looked confused, and Ria immediately avoided my gaze.
I looked them straight in the eye — calmly but ruthlessly:
“Thank you for the two million rupees. I will use them to start a new life — one that is freer and easier. From this moment on, I have nothing more to do with this family.
With these words, I put the divorce papers on the table, turned around and left without looking back. This time, I left the house not as an abandoned woman, but as a strong woman ready to choose her own happiness.
Key idea: Sometimes, in order to gain freedom, you have to take a bold step and leave everything unnecessary behind.
