My husband indulged me for 34 years until my brother-in-law donated blood, revealing his secret. I was astonished, laughing amidst tears. On the day I became his wife, his family remained impoverished.
Nevertheless, he successfully amassed the complete dowry and approached to claim me, amidst the astonished and envious gazes of numerous girls in the community. I believed I was fortunate to wed a handsome man, but upon cohabitation, I realised he was perpetually gentle and considerate. He indulged me like a child, preserving the euphoria of our nuptial days. However, every marriage inevitably acquires scars over time. My mother-in-law had four sons; he was the second-born, yet almost all responsibilities—transporting burdens, maintaining the house, accompanying her to medical appointments—rested upon him. Initially, I esteemed his commitment; yet, as time progressed, a subtle melancholy developed within me. For demonstration purposes only (istockphoto) On one occasion, I informed him, Your mother takes advantage of you excessively. He merely smiled. “She depends on me.” I responded. “No, it is due to your excessive kindness and your susceptibility to authority.” One day, only at my mention of his mother, he abruptly lost his fury and yelled, “Let us proceed with a divorce.” “Anyone who resists divorce is a coward.” I was rendered dumbfounded. I had never witnessed him in such a manner, nor did I ever conceive that he would genuinely request a divorce. A few days later, he came with a large box of my favourite ice cream, smiled, and stated, “I am that coward.” “Pardon me.” I laughed through tears. Time elapsed. His father and elder brother died at an early age. His youngest brother was apprehended for criminal activity. The family relied exclusively on my husband, who bore all burdens quietly and without grievance. My mother-in-law, rather than alleviating his burden, imposed further weight onto him. For demonstration purposes only (istockphoto) Upon our daughter’s enrolment in college, I anticipated that we would finally have some time to spend together. However, the joy was ephemeral: he fell unwell. Approaching sixty, he experienced hypertension, diabetes, and hyperlipidaemia until a stroke compromised multiple organs. I remained by his side continuously—bathing, feeding, and preventing anybody else from touching him. I believed he devoted his entire life to me; now it is my responsibility to reciprocate that commitment. What affected me the most was that, 
over those months, his mother never paid a visit. She manifested only while he was already diminishing. In a subdued tone, he murmured, “Mother…” I desire your culinary skills. She returned home, prepared four dishes, and had my younger brother-in-law deliver them. However, he was unable to consume food; he merely gestured with his eyes for me to eat. I comprehended—it was his ultimate method of “cooking” for me, conveyed through her hands. I consumed food while weeping. For demonstration purposes only (istockphoto) Subsequently, the day arrived. The hospital depleted its supply of his blood type. His younger brother volunteered, but was not a suitable match. Subsequent tests disclosed a horrific truth: my spouse was not the biological offspring of his parents. I was paralysed by incredulity. Throughout his entire life, he had devoted himself to a mother who never genuinely loved him. Subsequently, in solitude, I enquired, and he acquiesced with a mute nod: he had been aware for years, having eavesdropped on his parents’ discussion. None of his siblings were ever aware. His resigned smiles at his mother’s injustice were not from apathy, but from yearning—desiring the affection he never had. I recalled how he frequently behaved in a juvenile manner with me, seeking solace. I already mocked him. “You have matured; how can you possess such sweetness?” “Am I your progenitor?” I now see that it was his method of substituting the maternal affection he had been deprived of. For demonstration purposes
exclusively He departed on a rainy afternoon. The room was so silent that I could hear my heart shattering. My daughter invited me to reside with her. One evening, while we strolled alongside the lake, she softly remarked, “Father stated: I have devoted my life to caring for your mother, but I can no longer do so.” Henceforth, I shall assume responsibility for her care. I embraced her, smiling amidst tears. His affection did not cease; it merely evolved. Since his departure, I have adapted to a more deliberate pace of life. Every morning, I instinctively turn towards his side of the bed, only to recall that the void will remain unfilled. On his anniversaries, I prepare his preferred foods and arrange them on the altar, as if he has merely walked away temporarily and will soon return. Our daughter fulfils her commitment: she attends to me at every meal and each night, never allowing me solitude. 
Occasionally, in the tranquil early morning, I perceive her whisper. “Father, I am attending to Mother on your behalf; do not be concerned.” I grasp the cushion, weeping softly—not alone from sorrow, but from a warmth within my heart. For demonstration purposes only (istockphoto) Individuals occasionally enquire whether, aware that he was not his mother’s biological son, I harbour resentment towards him. 
I merely smile. He lived just to contribute, never for himself. He opted for silence, to persevere, to fulfil his obligations, to protect his loved ones. If another existence prevails, I still desire to reunite with him. I desire him to grasp my hand on a blustery day, beaming with pride and proclaiming, “She is my spouse.” In the future, I will embrace him with all my might, ensuring he does not escape my grasp again. 
This work is influenced by narratives from the daily experiences of our audience and composed by a professional author. Any similarity to real names or places is entirely accidental. All photos are solely for illustrative reasons.
