My mother had come to visit from the village, but my mother-in-law suddenly said: “Go to the kitchen and have your dinner”—she was stunned by what I did next.

How dare you? You live here because this family accepted you. Without us, who would you be?”

I stepped closer. “Wrong. I don’t need to be adopted. I built this life myself. And today, I won’t allow you to treat my mother like a servant.”

I opened the door wide. “Leave. Both of you.”

Mrs. Malhotra rose awkwardly. “Perhaps… I should go. I didn’t expect this.” She hurried out, murmuring apologies.

My mother-in-law glared, trembling with rage. “You’ll regret this.” But she too left, her proud back bent under humiliation.

I felt no triumph, only the calm of finally standing tall.

Moments later Vikram entered, sweaty from work. He looked at me, then at his mother outside. “What did you do? You threw them out?”

Baby products

I steadied my voice. “Your mother ordered mine to wash dishes and eat with the maid. Is that acceptable to you?”

He raised his voice. “She’s my mother. You had no right.”

“And what is my mother to you?” I shot back. “She sacrificed everything for me. If someone did this to your mother, would you be silent?”

He faltered but said nothing:

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