After the wedding rituals were over, Mrs. Sharma cleaned the house, became completely exhausted, and fell asleep. Her son Amit and daughter-in-law Priya had already gone to their room long ago. But the next morning, she woke up at 5 AM and started cleaning again because the house was still covered in dust and oil.
By 10 o’clock, her back was bent with fatigue—yet there was no sound from upstairs.
So she called from downstairs:
“Bahuu… O bahuu, come down and make lunch! Bahuu… O bahuu!”
When there was no reply, she yelled again:
“Bahuu, wake up!”
Her legs were aching, so she didn’t want to climb the stairs repeatedly. She stood downstairs and kept calling slowly but persistently. Still, she received no response. Now she was tired and angry, so she grabbed a stick from the kitchen corner and went upstairs, determined to teach her daughter-in-law a lesson.
When she finally reached the top of the stairs, she was panting heavily.
“What kind of daughter-in-law is this? Newly married, but no manners at all—sleeping till midday! Get up!” she snapped, and without waiting for a reply, she snatched the blanket away.
Her eyes widened. The stick fell from her hand onto the wooden floor with a sharp clack. She froze.
On the immaculate white bedsheet of the wedding night, it wasn’t the dirt or blood she had imagined—but a dark red, wet, smeared patch, surrounded by scattered white feathers. The scene looked like the site of an animal slaughter!
Even more horrifying was the sight of Priya, curled up in a corner, pale, trembling, clutching something tightly under a thin bedsheet. And Amit—sitting on the bed, shirtless from the waist up, panting, his sleeves stained red, his eyes filled with exhaustion, panic, and a strange, overwhelming fear.
Mrs. Sharma stepped back. Her trembling hands went to her mouth.
“Oh God… what is this?!”
Amit spun around. Seeing his mother standing there, he nearly toppled over. Priya burst into tears and buried her face in the pillow.
Amit hurried to explain, voice shaking with helplessness:
“Mom… it’s not what you think! This isn’t blood! Last night… last night I had a very severe allergy!”
He pointed at his chest. Indeed, red swollen patches covered his skin like bee stings.
“I’m allergic to this new feather quilt and the feather pillows! They made me itch horribly. I was scratching myself all night!” He pointed to the red stain on the sheet. Now Mrs. Sharma realized the color wasn’t as dark as she thought.
“And… and that’s chutney! The tomato chutney you made yesterday with the samosas! I was so itchy and burning that Priya—Priya remembered you once said that for bug bites, applying cold, salty water or sometimes even tomato chutney brings relief. She panicked, ran to the kitchen, found your leftover chutney, and smeared it all over my body!”
Priya sobbed:
“He… he couldn’t breathe properly… I was terrified he’d go into anaphylactic shock! I didn’t know what else to do, so I grabbed whatever could cool his skin… I forgot to call you… I’m so sorry, Mom…”
Amit hugged his wife gently. His face showed pain and exhaustion.
“We spent the whole night scraping off the dried chutney, cleaning up, changing the sheets. But it wouldn’t completely wash off! We didn’t sleep even for a minute. We only just fell asleep from sheer exhaustion… Mom, I’m sorry.”
Mrs. Sharma stood like a stone statue. Her anger dissolved into shock, then into immense sympathy. The stick she had brought to hit her daughter-in-law now lay at her feet.
From the “goddess of wrath” to feeling like she herself was guilty—she had been angry thinking her daughter-in-law was lazy, only to learn that Priya had spent the entire night saving her son’s life. And the feather quilt that she herself had gifted her son had caused the whole ordeal!
From a “nightmare” to a heart-warming truth—the horrifying scene on the bedsheet was not a disaster but the marks of a wedding night filled with care and love.
She bent down and picked up the stick—not to hit, but to support her aching legs. She approached the couple, touched her son’s shoulder, then looked at her daughter-in-law with an affection she had never shown before.
“Priya… my child… Amit has grown up, but this ridiculous allergy of his hasn’t changed! You must have gone through such trouble on your wedding night… my daughter, I’m sorry.”
She glanced at the stained bedsheet, then at Amit:
“Son, help your wife bathe and rest. I’ll ask someone to bring new bedding. And this—this old one, I will wash with my own hands!”
While Mrs. Sharma was scrubbing the stained sheet, something else caught her eye… something that was neither chutney nor feathers.
A thin red envelope tucked under the mattress.
Curiously, she pulled it out. Inside was no wedding gift—it was a one-way plane ticket to Singapore under Amit’s name, dated two months later.
She clutched the ticket tightly, a wave of fear and suspicion chilling her spine.
Why had her son hidden this?
Was this trip connected to the future of this newly formed marriage?
The sound of water stopping in the bathroom told her the couple would come out any moment. She quickly tucked the ticket into her pocket and tried to compose herself.
When Amit and Priya finally came downstairs, looking more presentable, Amit rushed toward his mother.
“Mom, let me wash those! Why are you doing it yourself?”
Mrs. Sharma turned around, her expression strangely stern.
“I have to wash it. I’m washing it so I can wash away all the secrets you’ve hidden in that room.”
Amit and Priya froze.
“What… what secret?” Priya stammered.
Without a word, Mrs. Sharma pulled the red envelope from her pocket and flung it onto the kitchen counter.
“What is this?”
A frightening silence filled the room.
Amit saw the ticket, looked at his mother, and his face changed from shock to despair. Priya lowered her head as tears welled up again.
“Mom… I…” Amit tried to speak.
“Don’t call me Mom!” she snapped, her voice turning ice-cold.
“Your wedding night was yesterday, and you’ve already bought a one-way ticket? Were you planning to abandon her? Does this family mean nothing to you? Why did you have such a grand wedding only to treat someone else’s daughter like this?”
Amit clenched his fists, took a deep breath, and finally looked his mother in the eye, ready to face the truth.
“Mom… this isn’t for running away. It’s something I have to do. You know my company has a major project with a partner in Singapore…”
“Work?” she mocked.
“What kind of work is so important that you had to hide it from me and your new wife, and buy a ticket to go alone?”
Suddenly Priya lifted her head, grasped Amit’s hand, and said—her voice trembling yet firm:
“Mom, please… please don’t blame Amit ji!
I bought that ticket!”
All eyes turned to Priya.
She swallowed her tears and explained:
“This project is extremely important for Amit ji’s career. But he turned it down… because he didn’t want to leave me alone right after the wedding, and he didn’t want you to feel lonely. He wanted to fulfill all his duties first.”
She glanced at her husband, whose eyes had turned red.
“I contacted his boss secretly and begged him not to give up on Amit ji. His boss said if Amit ji goes, he could be promoted to Regional Director. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I want him to succeed… I want him to go.”
“But why did you hide it?” Mrs. Sharma asked, her voice trembling.
“Because I knew… Amit ji would never agree if he found out I arranged everything. He’s too emotional. He promised to stay for your sake… so I secretly bought the ticket. When things settled down in two months, I would have told him and convinced him to go. I’m sorry, Mom…”
Silence engulfed the room again.
Mrs. Sharma looked at both of them—her son who sacrificed his career for family, and her daughter-in-law who sacrificed her own newlywed happiness for her husband’s future.
Tears streamed down her face—not from anger, but from regret and overwhelming emotion.
She stepped forward and embraced both of them tightly.
“My daughter… my children… you are both so good! I misunderstood you both. You’re not lazy, Priya—you’re a good wife and an ideal daughter-in-law. I nearly hit you with this stick… I can never forgive myself!”
She let go, looked at the plane ticket on the table, and her expression completely changed.
“Fine. I agree! Amit, you must go. But not alone.
Priya will go with you!”
Amit and Priya looked at her in shock.
“But… Mom, what about you?” Amit asked anxiously.
Mrs. Sharma smiled—a warm, gentle smile.
“I’m old now. I can take care of myself. And besides… I’ll fly to visit you both after some time!
This ticket is not for separation.
It’s the door to your future. Don’t be afraid.
Your happiness matters the most.”