"Besides, it's not like you work or have a social life. You've got housework to do, a grandchild to look after. Even if he bought you those flowers, when would you have time to enjoy them?"
The moment those words landed, the straight spine my mother had just mustered crumpled. The color drained from her face, inch by inch.
She slipped back behind that mask of silence, as if she'd never taken it off.
My father, emboldened now that someone was backing him up, puffed out his chest even further.
"You hear that? It's not just me who thinks so."
"You really feel that hard done by? Then go out and earn a living."
"Bring home eight, ten grand a month, and I'll buy you flowers every single day. But if you can't? Then you don't get to complain."
That was the last straw. I flipped the dinner table.
If they wanted the woman who cooked every meal to just shut up and take it, then none of them deserved to eat what she made.
Dishes shattered across the floor. Every face in the room went slack with shock.
But they were about to be a lot more shocked.
"Ungrateful piece of garbage."
I swung my hand and slapped Ian across the face.
The crack rang through the room, sharp and vicious. The right side of his face swelled instantly.
Ian clutched his cheek, too stunned to move.
"Have you lost your mind?"
I stared at him, cold as stone.
"I've lost my mind?"
"I think the four of you are the ones who've lost it."
"No. What you've lost isn't your minds. It's your conscience."
Grandma saw the handprint blooming across Ian's cheek and exploded first.
"You little brat! Who gave you the nerve to raise your hand? If you've ruined his face, I swear I'll make you pay."
I didn't even look at her. My eyes stayed locked on Ian.
"You say Mom doesn't earn money? Fine. Then let me ask you something. That hundred thousand dollars in online loans you racked up the year you graduated. Who paid that off?"
The blood drained from Ian's face in an instant.
"What's the matter? When Mom sold every last piece of her dowry jewelry to bail you out, you didn't tell her to save her money. You didn't call her useless then."
"But now that she's been bled dry, now that your debt is gone, suddenly she's just a worthless housewife? Is that it?"
"And you."
I turned to Vivian, who was muttering curses under her breath.
"You said dish soap and rubber gloves are more practical than flowers. Said you'd love it if Ian gave you that instead. Really? Because two years ago, when Ian actually gave you dish soap, what did you do? You threw a fit and ran home to your parents. You even threatened to divorce him."
Vivian's face turned beet red.
"That... that's not the same thing!"
"How is it not the same?"
A cold laugh escaped me.
"Ian gives you gold jewelry every year. The one time he gave you dish soap, even as a joke, you were so furious you nearly walked out on the marriage. But my mother has swallowed her pride for this family for thirty years. The one time she says she's had enough, you call her dramatic? You say she's making a big deal out of nothing? Are you even human?"
"Especially when my mother has been nothing but good to you."
My voice climbed before I could stop it.
"When you had Liam, who took care of you during your postpartum recovery?"
"Your own mother showed up for seven days, decided she was too tired, and left. But my mom was terrified you'd develop complications, so she stayed for the full forty-two days."
"Four meals a day, tailored for recovery. Up in the middle of the night to change diapers and make formula. Name me one daughter-in-law who had it as easy as you. You sailed through those six weeks glowing, happy, without lifting a finger."
Vivian opened her mouth. Nothing came out.
I kept going.
"And once you went back to work? Even easier. You'd come home every night and do nothing but scroll your phone. The second Liam cried, you'd dump him in my mother's arms. Every holiday, you and Ian would disappear on your little couple's getaway."
"And my mom? From the day your son was born, has she had a single day to herself? After everything she's done?"
"Have any of you ever once thanked her? No. You watched her get treated like she was nothing, and you said nothing. You forced her to keep swallowing it."
By the time I screamed that last sentence, Grandma couldn't take it anymore.
