It was strange — almost a whole year had passed without me receiving a single cent.
I continued relying only on the small pension I received every month.
I am 69 years old now, and most of my hair has already turned white.
Since my husband passed away, I’ve been living with my eldest son and his wife in a small house in the province.
My youngest son — Hung — works abroad.
Ever since he left, he always called me and said:
“Mother, don’t worry. Every month I will send money to the bank account under your name. Use it for your daily needs and for your old age.”
Those words warmed my heart.
But it breaks my heart to say this:
almost a year has passed since I last received anything.
I’ve been surviving only on my tiny government pension.
Whenever I asked, my daughter-in-law would say:
“Mother, he’s grown up now. He doesn’t need to spend so much. We will take care of you.”
It sounded nice… polite… almost affectionate.
But deep inside, there was a sadness I could not shake off.
One day, I called Hung.
“Son, is something wrong? Why haven’t I received any money?”
He was shocked.
“What do you mean? I send money every month to your account! The bank even calls me to confirm it! Please check again, Mother.”
My whole body went cold.
If he was sending money…
why wasn’t I receiving even a single rupee?
Where did all that money go?
The next day, I went to the bank and asked for a statement.
The clerk checked the computer and whispered softly:
“Grandma, the money enters every month. But shortly after, everything is withdrawn through the ATM.”
My world collapsed.
I didn’t even know how to use an ATM.
So who was taking it?
I asked to see the security footage.
And when the video played… my legs trembled and I had to sit down.
The person withdrawing the money…
was my daughter-in-law.
Her calm face as she pulled out the thick bundles of cash…
It pierced me deeper than any knife could.
I brought all the documents and images home.
That night, I called my son and daughter-in-law to the table.
I laid the papers in front of them.
“This is the money Hung has been sending me for the past year.
But I never received even once.
Look at these yourselves.”
My eldest son opened the folder, and his eyes widened when he saw his wife’s face on the screen.
His voice shook with anger:
“Is this true? Was this you?”
My daughter-in-law collapsed to her knees, crying uncontrollably.
“Forgive me, Mother… Forgive me, my husband.
I let myself be blinded…
I saw Hung sending large amounts of money, while Mother hardly spent anything.
I was afraid she was saving all of it to give back to him when he returned, while we were suffering and struggling here.
So I had the courage to take it…”
It felt like a blade pierced my heart.
Not because of the money…
But because of the trust that was shattered.
My son shouted in rage:
“You don’t respect my mother!”
I held him back, crying:
“Enough.
Money… can be earned again.
But a broken family… that is the real pain.
I ask only one thing: be honest.
Do not let greed eat your hearts.”
The house was silent, heavy.
My daughter-in-law sobbed endlessly.
My son bowed his head in shame, struggling to hold back tears.
The next morning, my daughter-in-law returned all the money and promised it would never happen again.
I accepted it…
but the wound remains.
The images from the bank…
I will never forget them.
A scar on my heart.
A scar of betrayal.
A lesson: anyone can be blinded by money.
I bear no hatred.
But I will not forget.
Because what matters is not how much money Hung sends…
but the true love and unity of a family.
And when greed consumes that…
everything falls apart.