"Mom, you’ve spent this entire marriage walking on eggshells. Get a divorce. I’ll take care of you from now on." My mother fell silent for a long time. Finally, she decided to give my father one last chance. "If he buys me a bouquet of flowers for International Women's Day this year, instead of his usual logic, I’ll drop it. I’ll keep the peace and stay with him." I could see she still held onto a sliver of hope. Not wanting to see her disappointed, I bombarded my dad with texts every day, reminding him to buy flowers. He promised he would. When the day finally arrived, Dad was uncharacteristically generous. He bought my grandmother a heavy solid gold bracelet, and got my sister-in-law a gold necklace. He even venmoed me $1,200 for high-end skincare. But when it came to my mother. He pulled out a $10 bottle of generic, store-brand laundry detergent from a supermarket clearance bin. … The moment he set the detergent down. The smile on my mother’s face froze. The last bit of light in her eyes went out. Dad didn't notice. He just grinned, nudging her. "What are you standing there for? Take your gift and put it in the laundry room." Mom didn't take it. She just stared at the bottle. It was the same brand. Same blue bottle, same red "Buy One Get One Free" sticker. For thirty years. Every single Women's Day, this is what she received. Dad finally sensed something was wrong. He frowned. "What? Not good enough? I got the economy size this time. Cost two bucks more than last year. Guaranteed to wash more clothes and last longer!" I couldn't stand listening to this, and I couldn't bear to see the look on my mother's face, so I tried to create a diversion. "Dad, did you forget to bring out the rest of her gifts?" He looked like he just remembered something and slapped his knee. "Right! I did prepare another gift for your mother." A flicker of hope returned to my mother’s eyes. But it vanished instantly when she saw what was in his hand. It wasn't flowers. It was a pair of yellow rubber dish gloves. "The day before yesterday, when you were doing dishes, I saw your old gloves had a hole. I walked past the hardware store today and picked these up for you. Happy?" He waved the gloves, looking proud of himself. "Sarah, you always say I don't know what you want, that I don't care. I bought you these gloves, didn't I? How is that not caring?" My mother’s lips were already trembling. She was clearly shaking with rage. But she said nothing. I was furious, too. I had texted him every single day, explicitly telling him to buy flowers for her, to not let her down. He had promised he would. Hell, even today when he was shopping, he sent me photos of roses and lilies. Asking me: "Sunny, which do you think Sarah would prefer? Roses or lilies?" So why did he still end up buying laundry soap! I couldn't help but raise my voice. "Dad, Mom doesn't want detergent, and she doesn't want gloves. She wants flowers. I texted you every day. You promised me. Why are we back to laundry detergent?" As I spoke, I pulled up our chat history. [Sunny: Dad, Mom wants flowers for Women's Day. Make sure you get them!] [Dad: Yeah, got it.] My father finally seemed to recall this. But his expression immediately soured. "What use are flowers? they're dead in two days." "Besides, the markup for holidays is ridiculous. $100 for a dozen roses? That money buys ten bottles of detergent. Spending money on flowers is a waste." "A waste of money? How is buying a gift for Mom a waste of money?" My voice turned icy. "Grandma's gold bracelet cost thousands. Chloe’s gold necklace cost over a thousand. Even I got $1,200 for skincare. How is a $100 bouquet considered a waste?" "That's completely different!" My father shot back without hesitation. "Your grandmother raised me. My money is hers; it's a no-brainer. I'd give her every penny if she needed it." "Your sister-in-law Chloe just gave birth to my grandson. She’s a hero in this family; it's only right to reward her. That thousand bucks was worth every penny!" "And you. You need to land a rich husband one day. If you don't take care of your face, how is anyone going to look at you? Skincare is a long-term investment!" "As for your mother..." He paused. His tone was casual, laced with a familiar contempt. "She’s a housewife... she’s eaten my food and lived under my roof for years. What has she actually contributed that makes her deserving of a $100 bouquet?" All color drained from my mother’s face. She slowly lifted her head, looking at my father. Her eyes were drowning in tears. "So in your eyes, my thirty years in this house aren't even worth $100." My father didn't care about the pain in her eyes. It barely registered. He looked back down at his plate, helping himself to seconds. "I’m just telling the truth. For years, you just wash clothes and cook food. You haven't exactly made any money!" My mother opened her mouth, about to say something. But she closed it. My father was satisfied with that. That’s how my mother always was. She didn't argue, didn't scream, didn't make scenes. She was a doormat. Letting everyone walk all over her. He assumed this time was no different. Dad kicked the detergent and the gloves toward her feet. "Grab your stuff. Let's have a nice family dinner. Don't ruin the night." My mother stood up obediently. Everyone thought she was going to pick up the soap and the gloves. Even I thought she was going to cave again. But she didn't. She didn't even look at the detergent. She turned and walked straight into the master bedroom. A minute later, she walked out pulling a small carry-on suitcase. The sound of the wheels rolling filled the silent room, finally stopping next to me. "Sunny, let's go." My mother’s voice was calm. Her eyes were incredibly determined. If her rim were not still red, you almost wouldn't have known how heartbroken she had just been. The entire family was stunned. Grandma was the first one to react. "Sarah, what do you think you’re doing?" "It's International Women's Day. Mark got you gifts. What more do you want?" "So he didn't buy flowers. Big deal. You have your own money, buy them yourself if you want them that bad. Are you really going to ruin a family celebration over this?" Chloe, my sister-in-law, awkwardly touched the gold necklace on her neck, urging quietly: "Mom, you know Dad. He’s always blunt. You’ve put up with him for thirty years. There's no need to get dramatic over one bouquet." "Besides, Dad bought detergent and gloves. They're practical. Isn't that better than dead flowers? It just shows he’s a down-to-earth man looking out for the household." She forced a small smile. "When I'm older, if my husband still buys me useful stuff like this, I'd actually find it quite touching." Chloe nudged my brother’s arm. "Right, honey?" My brother jumped in immediately. "Exactly. Detergent and gloves are better than flowers." "You don't make any money, you should probably spend less. Try to save Dad some money." "Besides, you don't work, you don't go out. You have chores and you're helping with the baby. Even if we bought flowers, you wouldn't have time to look at them." Hearing this, my mother’s shoulders sagged. Her face turned pale again. It was as if she was putting back on her mask of silent obedience. Seeing everyone backing him up, my dad grew bolder. "You hear that? I'm not the only one who thinks so." "If you really feel like you have it so hard, then go out and get a job." "Bring in ten grand a month, and I'll buy you flowers every single day. If you can't, then you don't get to be picky!" Hearing this, I couldn't take it anymore. I flipped the entire table. If they wanted to treat my mother, who made this entire meal, like trash, then none of them were going to eat her food. Dishes crashed to the floor. Food was everywhere. Everyone was paralyzed. But they were about to get an even bigger shock. "You ungrateful son-of-a-bitch." I slapped my brother across the face. The slap was loud and vicious. His right cheek turned red instantly. My brother clutched his face, looking completely confused. "Have you lost your mind?" I looked him dead in the eye. "I’ve lost my mind?" "I think the four of you are the ones who have lost your minds!" "No, actually, I think you've lost your goddamn souls!" Grandma saw the slap mark on my brother’s face and exploded. "You little bitch, who do you think you are putting your hands on him? If you actually hurt him, I'll kill you!" I ignored her and glared at my brother. "You say Mom doesn't make any money, so let me ask you: when you graduated and had that $20,000 credit card debt, who paid it off?" My brother’s face turned white. "Mom sold her engagement ring to pay your debt. You didn't tell her to 'save Dad money' then, did you? You didn't think she was useless then." "But now that you have drained her, now that you have used her to pay off your debt, she is just a cheap housewife, right?" "And you." I looked at Chloe, my sister-in-law, who was muttering insults under her breath. "You say detergent and gloves are better than flowers. You said you want my brother to send them to you one day. Let me ask you this: two years ago, when Mark actually did bring you laundry detergent as a prank gift, who went screaming to their parents’ house? Who almost divorced him?" Chloe’s face turned bright red. "That... that was different!" "How was it different?" I let out a cold laugh. "Every single year my brother gives you jewelry, and the one time he pranks you with detergent, you were livid, ready to end it. But my mother has endured this disrespect for thirty years, and when she finally cannot take it anymore, you tell her she’s dramatic? You say it's trivial? Are you even a human being?" "This family, my mother, has done so much for you specifically." My voice grew louder. "When you were recovering from childbirth, who took care of you?" "Your own mother came for seven days and went back because she was tired. My mother, terrified you would have postpartum health issues, waited on you hand and foot for forty-two days!" "Four meals a day, getting up in the middle of the night to change the baby, to feed the baby. No other daughter-in-law in this city has had such a happy, stress-free postpartum experience!" Chloe opened her mouth, but not a single word came out. I kept going. "When you went back to work, you had it so easy. Every day you just came home and ignored your son. The second the baby cried, you threw him into my mother's arms. When you’re off work, you and my brother go on romantic vacations!" "What about my mother? Has she had a single day to herself since that baby was born? And after all of this?" "Has a single one of you even thanked her? No, instead, you see the injustice she’s facing and you ignore it, trying to force her to be miserable for the sake of your comfort!" When I screamed that last sentence, Grandma couldn't handle it. "Enough! Every grandmother helps out with the grandchild. Why is it different with your mother?" "Every grandmother helps, so why weren't you one of them?" I sneered at her. "When my mother was pregnant, where were you?" "Didn't you claim your back hurt and you couldn't serve people?" "My mother, pregnant with my brother, then me, still had to cook, clean, and do all the household chores herself." "How come you didn't have any of this 'help' then?" Grandma’s face turned multiple colors. "I... I was actually in bad health then." "In bad health, yet you could go to bingo every night? In bad health, yet you could eat three huge meals a day? In bad health, yet you could scream insults at my mother without pausing for a breath? In bad health..." Grandma was about to faint from my retorts. My father finally couldn't help but jump in, pointing his finger at my nose. "Enough!" "Who the hell do you think you are? Your mother hasn't said a word, yet you are here putting on a show attacking everyone. Who do you think gave you the right?" Just as he finished, my mother grabbed my hand and said, loud and clear: "The right came from me!" The entire room went silent. Everyone’s eyes were locked on my mother. For thirty years, she had always been the quiet one. Silent when accused, silent when ignored, silent when abused. But this time, she spoke for herself. My dad couldn't take her resisting him, feeling like he was losing face. His face turned dark, and he angrily kicked a dining chair over. "Sarah Miller, say that again. Who gave that bitch the right to come in here and make a scene?" My dad’s eyes were bloodshot, looking like a wild animal ready to bite. But my mother looked him in the eye without a hint of fear. She repeated herself, slow and clear. "I did!" "And." She paused, looking at me with nothing but love. "Sunny is not a bitch!" "She is my daughter, my heart. She is the only person in this family who truly cares about me, loves me, and stands by me no matter what." As she spoke, she calmly glanced around the room—at my brother, his wife, and Grandma. She said nothing to them directly, but they all instinctively looked away, unable to meet her gaze. "Fine. Since you say she’s the only one who treats you well, then when you leave with her tonight, don't ever come back! From now on, you let this recent college grad support you!" "If she runs out of money, if she can't feed you, and you are starving out in the streets, you aren't allowed to come back. And don't you dare call me, asking me for a dime!" As he spoke, his gaze was fixed on my mother. He assumed he would see her panic, see her immediately regret her actions. But he was wrong. My mother didn't even blink. He was surprised for a second. But he immediately dismissed her reaction, deciding she just had no grasp of money. He began calculating on his fingers. "Your daughter just graduated. Her monthly salary is what, $5,000 max?" "Rent is at least $1,500, food is at least $800. She has a car, so that’s a $400 payment plus insurance. Utilities, phone, gas... that’s another $500." "After all that, she still has to support a useless housewife like you who can't make a dime. Do you really think that's enough?" He finished, let out a cold laugh.
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