The woman was chased out in the rain by her husband and his family, and 5 years later, something unexpected happened…

“It was pouring rain that day, I held my three-year-old son in my arms, standing in front of the cold iron gate. The rain hit my face, the wind blew against my skin, but the pain in my heart was even colder. My husband – the man I had trusted all my life – and his family chased me and my son out of the house with only a few sets of clothes stuffed in a plastic bag. No one looked back, no one thought about the baby shivering in my arms.”

I got married when I was only 23. My husband’s family in Texas did not strongly object at first, but never truly accepted me. I was the daughter of immigrants, my father died early, my mother sold goods in the local market. They thought I was just clinging to their son to change my life. As for my husband, David, he was gentle, loved his wife and children, but was too weak in front of his parents. For every small conflict in the family, I was considered the cause.

That day, just because I didn’t have time to cook a decent meal after working overtime at the supermarket, my mother-in-law cursed me terribly. I endured it silently, but when she threw the bowl on the floor, my son was scared and cried out. I hugged him, about to take him to the room, but David shouted:

“You always cause tension in the house. What did Mom say was wrong, why are you so silent?”

I burst into tears, because I didn’t want to argue in front of my son. But at that moment, my mother-in-law pushed the door open, grabbed my bag and threw it out onto the porch, shouting:

“Go away! Don’t dirty my house anymore! My son married the wrong kind of woman.”

I looked at David in surprise, hoping he would say something fair. But he just lowered his head, avoiding my eyes. My father-in-law added:

“Go away! It’s good for both you and him. Don’t cling to my family anymore.”

In just a few minutes, I was stripped of my only support. With no place to stay, no money, I held my child and walked into the cold night rain. My innocent son asked:
“Mom, why don’t you let me stay at home?”

I bit my lip, not daring to answer. In that moment, I swore I would never return to that house again.

5 years of ups and downs

The following days were a series of dark days. My child and I rented a damp room near the market in Houston, each month just enough to pay with my salary as a restaurant assistant. In the morning, I left my child with the landlady to look after and then hurried to work from 6am to 9pm. At night, I cooked a simple meal and put my child to sleep.

There were days when we didn’t have enough money, so the two of us only ate rice with fried eggs. My child asked:
“Mom, why don’t we eat grilled chicken like our classmates?”
I could only smile awkwardly, tears falling into the bowl of rice.

Despite the difficulties, I never thought of abandoning my child. On the contrary, it was the motivation for me to try. I took on extra jobs washing dishes, cleaning, and then enrolled in an evening accounting class – the major I had dropped out of school when I got married.

Five years passed, from a skinny, shy girl, I became a strong woman. My son also grew up in hardship. He was more understanding than many of his peers. Every time I was tired, he would rub my shoulder and whisper:

“Mom, try your best. I will be good so you won’t be sad.”

Once, while serving in a restaurant, I accidentally met an old friend from college – Linda. She sympathized with my situation and introduced me to work as an accountant for her husband’s small trading company. At first, the salary was low but stable, then gradually I was trusted and promoted to chief accountant.

The dilapidated rented room was replaced by a small, clean apartment. I bought my son a new blue desk he liked. For the first time, I could cook a full meal without worrying about running out of money.

Unexpected reunion

One afternoon, my company was invited to a trade conference in Dallas. When I entered the hall, my heart suddenly tightened. In front of me, after 5 years, was David – my ex-husband, the one who once turned away from the cries of his wife and children. He stood there, his clothes wrinkled, his face haggard.

After the introduction, I learned that his family company had gone bankrupt due to business losses. His father was seriously ill, his mother had returned to the countryside. He now only worked as an employee at a small store, living in debt.

We met eyes. He softly called:
“You…”

I calmly replied:
“Are you okay?”

He looked at me, his eyes full of regret:
“That day… I was wrong. I did not protect you and the child. I am sorry.”

I smiled lightly. There was no more hatred in my heart, only strangeness. I thought about that rainy night, then thought about the past 5 years. If I hadn’t been pushed out of that house, I would probably have remained a dependent woman in a heartless family.

Now, I have a stable job, a good son, and a small home. I don’t need an apology anymore. I said:
“It’s okay. Thanks to that, I have today. I wish you peace.”

He was silent, his eyes red.

As for me, I walked away, feeling relieved. In front, my son was running towards me, holding my hand tightly and smiling brightly:
“Mom, let’s go home.”

And I knew, that was my real family