My wife had saved ₹7 lakh for her maternity. I asked her to give the money to my sister, who is about to deliver her baby — she refused. Then she revealed something that completely shattered me…
When Priya and I — my name is Arjun — found out we were going to become parents, everything at home changed. She, organised as always, had managed to save ₹7 lakh over several months for her maternity: medical check-ups, diapers, emergencies, and a small financial cushion for the baby’s first few weeks. I always admired her discipline, though I never said it out loud.
The problem began the night my sister, Kavya, called me in tears. Her husband had abandoned her eight months into her pregnancy, she didn’t have a stable job, and her rent was overdue. As her elder brother, I felt responsible. Without thinking too much, I promised her I would arrange some money. It was an impulsive promise, born more out of guilt than logic.
The next day, while Priya was cooking dinner, I gathered the courage to ask:
“Priya… could you lend Kavya the ₹7 lakh?”
Priya froze mid-cut, the knife hovering over the vegetables. Her face tensed.
“Arjun, that money is for our baby. How can you ask me this now?”
Her refusal felt cold to me. I argued that Kavya was my sister and family must support each other. Priya replied, voice trembling, that she was also my family, and in a few weeks we were becoming parents ourselves. The argument escalated. I couldn’t understand how she could be so rigid.
Finally, exhausted, Priya put the knife down and told me to sit. Her eyes were red, but she wasn’t crying anymore. There was something deeper in her expression — like she’d been holding something back for a long time.
“Arjun… there’s a reason I can’t give that money to your sister. A reason I haven’t told you because I was scared of your reaction.”
I froze. She took a deep breath, preparing herself to reveal something heavy. My heart was pounding so hard I could barely hear anything else.
“That money… it’s not just for the baby. There’s more. Something that affects you directly.”
Just as she was about to continue, my whole world seemed to stop.
Priya lowered her gaze, nervously rubbing her hands together. I tried not to pressure her, but my mind was already imagining the worst.
“Please… just tell me,” I whispered.
“Arjun, I didn’t save those ₹7 lakh alone. Part of that money… came from someone else.”
A chill shot through my body.
“From who?” I asked, terrified that she’d say another man’s name.
Priya hesitated.
“…From your mother.”
I was speechless.
“My mother? Why? For what?”
Priya finally looked up, her eyes full of guilt and pain.
“She asked me to keep it safe for you. For the baby. And… for something she knew you didn’t want to face.”
I was completely confused. My mother had passed away six months earlier. She had always been meticulous, but I never imagined she had set money aside.
Priya continued:
“Before she died, she wrote to me and asked me to use that money to make sure you could take some weeks off when the baby arrives. She knew your company wasn’t giving paid paternity leave, and she was scared you’d work nonstop. She didn’t want you to miss the beginning of your child’s life… like she missed yours.”
The words hit me straight in the chest. I remembered every unspoken conversation with my mother, her regret about missing so many moments of my childhood.
Priya, holding back tears, added:
“She gave me strict instructions: This money is for Arjun, so he can be the father she couldn’t be. Don’t use it for anything else.”
I felt the guilt crash over me. I had almost forced Priya to betray my mother’s last wish.
Priya took my hand gently.
“I know you want to help Kavya, I really do. But this wasn’t just savings. It was a gift. A farewell. A way to heal something that always hurt her.”
I swallowed hard. I never imagined this conversation would lead to something like this. But it wasn’t over — not yet.
“There’s something else I need to tell you…” she whispered.
A cold wave ran through my arms. The air felt heavy.
“Something that will change how you see the last few months.”
Priya stood up, walked to the bedroom, and returned with a sealed envelope. She placed it in front of me.
“Your mother gave me this too. She told me to give it to you when the time felt right. And… I think this is the moment.”
My fingers trembled as I opened it. Inside was a letter — written in my mother’s unmistakably soft handwriting.
“Son, I know you’ve always tried to be strong and carry everything alone. But life is not meant to be lived like that. Don’t repeat my mistakes. When your child is born, stay close. Don’t sacrifice what matters most just to help everyone else. Take care of your own family first. The rest can wait.”
Priya watched silently as I continued reading.
“And take care of Priya. She will be your partner in everything. If you ever doubt, trust her instincts — she sees things you sometimes overlook.”
Tears blurred my vision. It felt as though my mother had written the letter knowing exactly what would happen today.
When I finished, Priya came closer and hugged me gently.
“Arjun, I never wanted to hide anything. I just wanted to honour your mother’s wishes. And also…”
She stepped back slightly and held my hands.
“I’m scared too. My pregnancy is more delicate than I told you. The doctors want extra tests. I didn’t want to stress you, but… I need that money for my health. For the baby’s safety.”
It felt like the air had been knocked out of my lungs. I hated myself for asking her something so unfair without knowing what she was going through.
That night, I called Kavya. I told her the truth and promised to help — but in other ways: finding government maternity support, speaking to a lawyer about her rental issue, arranging help from relatives. She understood, even though it hurt. But it was the right thing to do.
And so we decided: the money would be used exactly as my mother intended… and exactly as we needed.
Because sometimes, life shakes you just so you can see where you truly belong.