After the wedding rituals were completed, Mrs. Sharma cleaned the house thoroughly. Exhausted, she fell asleep, while her son Amit and daughter-in-law Priya had already gone to their room much earlier.
But the next morning, she woke up at 5 a.m. and began cleaning again because the house was covered in dust and oil stains.
Time passed.
By 10 a.m., her back was aching, yet there was still no sound from upstairs.
She finally called out from below:
“Daughter-in-law! Come downstairs and start cooking! Daughter-in-law!”
There was no response.
She tried again:
“Priya, wake up!”
Because her legs were hurting, she didn’t want to climb the stairs repeatedly. So she stayed downstairs, calling out gently but continuously.
Still no answer.
She became tired — and furious.
She grabbed a stick kept in the kitchen corner and went upstairs to teach the new bride a lesson.
By the time she reached the upper floor, she was panting.
“What kind of daughter-in-law is this? Newly married and doesn’t even have basic manners! Sleeping till midday! Get up!”
She angrily lifted the blanket —
and froze.
The stick slipped from her hand and hit the wooden floor with a sharp clack.
She stood stunned.
On the perfectly white bedsheet of the wedding-night room, there wasn’t the dirt or blood she had imagined…
Instead, there was a large, wet crimson smear — surrounded by scattered white feathers.
The scene looked like the aftermath of an animal being slaughtered.
But something even more terrifying was in the corner.
Priya was crouched there, trembling, pale, clutching something close under a thin sheet.
Amit sat on the edge of the bed, shirt half removed, breathing heavily. His sleeves were stained red, and his eyes showed exhaustion, panic — and fear.
Mrs. Sharma staggered back, her hand covering her mouth.
“What… what on earth is this?!”
Amit quickly turned.
Seeing his mother at the doorway, he almost slipped.
Priya burst into tears and buried her face in a pillow.
Amit began explaining, his voice shaking with helplessness:
“Mom… it’s not what you think! This isn’t blood! Last night… I had a severe allergy!”
He pointed to his chest.
Indeed, red patches had erupted on his skin, swollen like multiple insect bites.
“I’m allergic to this new feather quilt and feather pillows! It became unbearably itchy and burning. I was scratching all night!”
He pointed at the red stain.
Mrs. Sharma suddenly realized — it wasn’t thick like blood.
“And… and this is chutney! The tomato chutney you made yesterday for the snacks! I was itching so badly that Priya… she remembered you used to say applying something cold or tomato paste helps with irritation. She panicked, didn’t know what to do at midnight, ran to the kitchen, found the leftover chutney, and applied it all over me!”
Priya sobbed:
“He… he couldn’t breathe properly. I was scared he’d go into anaphylactic shock. I didn’t know what else to do… I forgot to wake you… Mother, please forgive me!”
Amit hugged his wife, face full of pain and exhaustion.
“We cleaned the dried chutney off for hours, changed the sheets, but it didn’t completely wash off. We didn’t sleep at all. We only fell asleep at dawn from pure exhaustion… Mom, I’m sorry!”
Mrs. Sharma stood still like a statue — anger fading into shock, then deep compassion.
The stick she had brought to “teach a lesson” lay useless at her feet.
From an “angry mother-in-law” to someone who suddenly saw the truth:
Her daughter-in-law wasn’t lazy — she had spent the night saving her son.
And the feather quilt Mrs. Sharma had gifted them had caused the whole nightmare.
As she wiped the stains off the sheet, something else caught her eye — something neither chutney nor feathers.
A thin red envelope.
It was tucked under the mattress.
Curious, she pulled it out.
Inside was not wedding money…
but a one-way plane ticket in Amit’s name for a date two months from now.
She froze.
Why had her son hidden this?
Did this have something to do with his marriage?
Was he planning to leave Priya?
A cold chill ran down her spine as she slipped the ticket into her pocket just as the water stopped running upstairs.
Amit and Priya came down looking fresh, unaware of what she had found.
Amit rushed to help:
“Mom, let me wash that! Why are you doing it yourself?”
Mrs. Sharma turned, her face suddenly stern.
“I need to wash it. I’m washing away the secrets you’ve hidden in that room.”
Priya looked alarmed.
Amit swallowed nervously.
“What… what secrets?” Priya whispered.
Mrs. Sharma pulled the red envelope from her pocket and slammed it on the counter.
“What is this?”
Silence.
Amit stared at the ticket, then at his mother.
Priya lowered her head, crying again.
“M-Mom… I—” Amit began.
She interrupted, voice cold as ice:
“Don’t call me Mom! The wedding just happened, and you already bought a one-way ticket? Were you planning to leave her? Leave this family? Why did you get married with such celebration only to do this afterward?”
Amit clenched his fists, took a deep breath, and finally met her eyes.
“Mom… it’s not for running away. It’s for work. You know the project my company is working on…”
“Work?” she snapped.
“What kind of work must be hidden from your wife and your mother?”
Suddenly, Priya stepped forward, grabbing Amit’s hand.
With a trembling but determined voice, she said:
“Mother… please don’t blame Amit Ji. I bought that ticket.”
Everyone turned to her.
Priya wiped her tears and spoke the truth:
“This project is extremely important for his career. But he refused it… because he didn’t want to leave you alone right after the wedding, and he didn’t want me to feel abandoned.”
She looked at Amit lovingly.
“He turned down the opportunity so he could fulfill his duties as a son and a husband.”
“I secretly contacted his boss. I begged him not to cancel Amit Ji’s chance. If he goes, he might be promoted to a regional director position… an opportunity that comes once in a lifetime. I want him to succeed.”
Mrs. Sharma whispered:
“But why hide it?”
Priya answered softly:
“Because Amit Ji would never agree. He’s too emotional. He promised to stay with you after the wedding. So I thought… after two months, once we settle into married life, I would tell him and insist he go. I’m sorry, Mother.”
Silence again.
Mrs. Sharma looked at her son — who had sacrificed his career —
and her daughter-in-law — who was ready to sacrifice her new marriage for his future.
Tears welled in her eyes.
She stepped forward and embraced both of them.
“My child… you are a wonderful daughter-in-law. I misjudged you. I misjudged both of you. You aren’t lazy — you were saving my son and securing his future.”
She looked at the ticket.
Then smiled, gently but firmly:
“Fine. I agree. Amit, you will go.
But not alone.
Priya, you will go with him.”
Amit and Priya gasped.
“But… Mother, what about you?” Amit asked worriedly.
She laughed softly:
“I’m old enough to take care of myself. And later, I’ll fly to visit you both! This ticket is not for separation — it’s a ticket to your future. Don’t be afraid. Your happiness matters the most.”