After Aria recovered from childbirth, I thought it was finally time to return to my own life.
But she clung to my hand, eyes wide and pleading.
"Mom, please, just a little longer. Jonathan is under so much pressure supporting us alone. I want to go back to work to help."
She sighed, putting on a pitiful expression. "Mrs. James isn't in good health, so I can't ask her. You're all we have, Mom. Please, just for a while."
Looking into my daughter's desperate eyes, my resolve crumbled. My heart softened, just as it always did.
That "little while" turned into three agonizing years.
I went from a retiree enjoying her golden years to this household's live-in servant. Grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning, childcare—my days began before dawn and ended long after dark. I didn't have a moment to breathe.
My entire pension vanished into this household's expenses. My health deteriorated along with my bank account.
Lately, the toll had become undeniable. Migraines plagued me daily, and my lower back throbbed so violently I couldn't sleep. Every time I turned over or took a step, it felt like needles driving into my nerves.
I assumed Aria had noticed. I thought the ginseng was her way of acknowledging my sacrifice, a gift to help me heal.
I never imagined it wasn't for me at all.
I steadied my shaking hands and turned to my daughter.
"Aria," I asked, voice trembling, "is Jonathan telling the truth?"
She looked at me with a troubled expression, feigning helplessness. Her voice was soft, almost patronizing.
"Mom, you know Mrs. James has poor health. Why would you assume I bought something this expensive for you?"
Hearing those words from the daughter I had cherished since birth... it was laughable. Truly laughable.
In the beginning, I actually believed the lie about her mother-in-law's frailty.
Because of that belief, I shouldered every burden in this house. I didn't let Mrs. James lift a finger.
I even spent my limited free time brewing restorative soups, intending to deliver them to her as a gesture of goodwill.
But one day, when I arrived at her apartment complex with a thermos of soup, I didn't find a sick woman. I found Mrs. James vibrant and energetic, square dancing in the plaza with a group of friends.
I stood in the shadows and listened as someone asked, "Hey, didn't your daughter-in-law just have a baby? Shouldn't you be over there helping?"
Mrs. James lifted her chin proudly. "My daughter-in-law specifically asked for her own mother. Why should I intervene? I'm just here to enjoy my retirement."
Envious voices surrounded her.
"You're so lucky! Good health, devoted son and daughter-in-law. You get the title of Grandma without any of the hard labor!"
That day, I stood there for a long time, the soup growing cold in my hands.
I wanted to call Aria right then. I wanted to ask if she knew her mother-in-law was perfectly healthy.
But I didn't dare.
I told myself she didn't know. I was afraid my questioning would cause a rift between Aria and her in-laws.
But deep down, I was terrified of the alternative: that my daughter knew perfectly well, and they had conspired to turn me into their beast of burden.
Seeing my silence, Aria spoke again, her tone shifting to mild annoyance.
"Mom, look, maybe I wasn't clear, but you're being unreasonable."
She crossed her arms. "You're always so frugal. You never spend money on yourself. I assumed even if I offered it, you'd refuse and tell me to return it for a refund. I didn't think you'd actually be selfish enough to eat it."
Yes, I thought bitterly. I am frugal. I have never been willing to spend an extra cent on myself.
Because Jonathan has a refined palate, I buy expensive organic produce. Because Aria needed to recover after the birth, I bought premium free-range chickens and high-end supplements. My granddaughter's imported formula costs a fortune per can.
And who paid for all of it? I did. I subsidized their lifestyle with my own pension.
But my funds are limited. After pouring everything into their mouths, I had nothing left for myself.
I stopped buying new clothes. I didn't dare eat a single piece of the expensive fruit I bought for them. I wouldn't even see a doctor when pain wracked my body.
I starved myself to feed them, and now my own daughter called me selfish.
