Her husband went abroad and cut off all contact… She stayed behind to care for her paralyzed mother-in-law for 20 years… and the ending was heartbreaking
When he left for work far away, she was only 25.
He left with promises… and then he disappeared.
No calls, no letters.
She cried for days… but then wiped her tears and began preparing porridge for her bedridden mother-in-law, a stroke victim who was completely dependent on her.
The neighbors advised her to leave, to return to her parents, to rebuild her life.
But she only smiled.
From the very first day of her marriage, her mother-in-law had welcomed her like a daughter.
Once, when she was gravely ill, the old woman had stayed up all night at her side, checking her medicine and gently caressing her forehead.
And whenever despair overwhelmed her, her mother-in-law would take her hand and whisper softly:
“You are everything to me.”
So she stayed.
Day after day, she cooked, cleaned, changed the sheets, and helped with physiotherapy.
On freezing nights, when the old woman shivered, she massaged her arms and legs with oil until she fell peacefully asleep.
Exhausted, she still kept feeding her porridge, spoon by spoon, watched by eyes filled with silent gratitude.
Twenty years passed. Her hair began to turn gray.
The villagers would say:
“Few people have such a pure heart.”
Many admired her, some even wanted to marry her.
But she always replied tenderly:
“My mother-in-law is still here. I cannot leave her.”
One day, the old woman grew weaker than ever.
In a barely audible voice, she called her, held her trembling hand, and whispered:
“Thank you… for everything. But there is something I’ve hidden from you all this time…”
Priya leaned closer, holding her breath.
Amma spoke softly:
“When your husband asked for a divorce, he wanted me to sign the papers.
I refused. He left in anger.
A few years ago… he had an accident.
He passed away.
His ashes were sent from abroad… I kept them under the altar.”
Priya’s heart tightened, but she shed no more tears.
Then Amma added:
“In the closet, there is the land deed. It is now in your name.
I never had daughters… but you have always been mine.”
Amma passed away peacefully.
At her funeral, the whole village came to say goodbye.
Everyone wept when they saw Priya kneeling by the coffin, silent pain pouring from the depths of her soul.
A few days later, Priya opened the closet.
Along with the land deed, she found a savings account: more than two million rupees.
Amma had been secretly saving for years: renting part of the land, selling vegetables from a small garden, setting aside a portion of her pension… all in Priya’s name.
On the first anniversary of Amma’s death, Priya renovated the house.
She opened a small shop in the front yard and named it:
“Amma’s Porridge House.”
Customers paid what they could.
Some paid nothing at all.
When asked why she didn’t charge more, Priya smiled:
“Amma lived on the porridge I made for her.
Today, I live on the porridge I sell… and by helping others.
That is more than enough.”
That afternoon, the place was full.
In one corner, an old shivering woman slowly savored the warm porridge.
She looked up and said:
“My child, this porridge is delicious. It warms the heart.”
Priya’s eyes filled with tears. She remembered Amma.
She leaned slightly forward and whispered:
“Madam… I made it with all the love I once received from you.”