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 her room some time ago. But the next morning, she woke up at 5:00 and started cleaning again because the house was still covered in dust and oil.

At ten o’clock, his back was bent with exhaustion—but no sound could be heard from above.

So he called from downstairs:
“Bahuu… Oh Bahuu, come down and prepare the food! Bahuu… Oh bahuu!”
When he received no answer, he shouted again:
“Bahuu, wake up!”

Her legs ached, so she didn’t want to go up the stairs again and again. She stayed downstairs and kept knocking slowly but insistently. Still, she received no answer. Now  tired and  angry, she grabbed a stick from the corner of the kitchen 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 with no manners—she could sleep until noon! Get up!” she snapped, and without waiting for a reply, she snatched the blanket away.

Her eyes widened. The stick fell from her hand to the wooden floor  with a thud  . She froze.

On the pristine white sheet of their wedding night, it wasn’t the dirt and blood she had imagined—but a dark red stain, wet and mottled, surrounded by scattered white feathers. The scene looked like the site of an animal sacrifice!

Even more terrifying was seeing Priya, huddled in a corner, pale, trembling, clutching something tightly under a thin sheet. 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.
“My God… What is this?!”

Amit turned around. Seeing his mother standing there, he almost fell over. Priya burst into tears and buried her face in the pillow.

Amit rushed to explain, his voice trembling with helplessness:
“Mom… It’s not what you think! This isn’t blood! Last night… I had a really bad allergic reaction!”
He pointed to his chest. Indeed, red, swollen welts covered his skin like bee stings.

“I’m allergic to this new down comforter and the down pillows! They were so itchy. I was scratching all night!” She pointed to the red stain on the sheet. Now Mrs. Sharma realized that the color wasn’t as dark as she had thought.

“And… And that’s chutney! The tomato chutney you made yesterday with the samosas! It was so itchy and burning that Priya—Priya remembered you once said that for insect bites, applying cold, salty water or even tomato chutney sometimes brings relief. She panicked, ran to the kitchen, found your leftover chutney, and smeared it all over me!”

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 might cool his skin… I forgot to call you… I’m so sorry, Mom…”

Amit gently hugged his wife. Her face showed pain and exhaustion.
“We spent all night scraping off the dried chutney, cleaning, changing the sheets. But it still wouldn’t get completely clean! We didn’t sleep a wink. We only just fell asleep from sheer exhaustion… Mom, I’m so sorry.”

Mrs. Sharma stood like a stone statue. Her anger dissolved into shock, then into immense sympathy. The stick she had brought to beat her daughter-in-law now lay at her feet.

From being called the “goddess of wrath” to feeling guilty herself—she raged, thinking her daughter-in-law was lazy, only to discover that Priya had spent the entire night saving her son’s life. And the down comforter she herself had given her son had caused the whole mess!

From a “nightmare” to a touching truth: the horrific scene on the sheet was not a disaster, but the marks of a wedding night filled with care and love.

He bent down and picked up the stick—not to strike, but to support his aching legs. He approached the couple, touched his son’s shoulder, and then looked at his daughter-in-law with an affection he had never shown before.

“Priya… my son… Amit has grown up, but this ridiculous allergy of his hasn’t changed. You must have been so upset on your wedding night… my daughter, I’m sorry.”
She looked at the stained sheet, then at Amit:

“Son, help your wife bathe and rest. I’ll ask someone to bring fresh bed linens. And  this —this old one, I’ll wash it myself!”

While Mrs. Sharma was scrubbing the stained sheet, something else caught her attention… something other than chutney and feathers.

A thin red envelope hidden under the mattress.

Curious, she took it out. Inside there was no wedding gift—it was a one-way plane ticket to Singapore in Amit’s name, dated two months later.

He clutched the banknote tightly, a wave of fear and suspicion chilling his back.

Why had his son kept this a secret?
Was this trip connected to the future of this newly formed marriage?

The sound of the water stopping in the bathroom told her the couple would be out any moment. She quickly put the bill in her pocket and tried to compose herself.

When Amit and Priya finally came down, looking more presentable, Amit ran towards his mother.

“Mom, let me wash that! Why do you do it all by yourself?” Mrs.
Sharma turned around, with an oddly stern expression.

“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 saying a word, Mrs. Sharma took the red envelope out of her pocket and threw it onto the kitchen counter.

“What is this?”

A terrifying silence filled the room.

Amit saw the banknote, looked at his mother, and his face changed from surprise 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 icy.
“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 lavish wedding just to treat someone else’s daughter like this?”

Amit clenched his fists, took a deep breath, and finally looked his mother in the eyes, ready to face the truth.

“Mom… This isn’t something to run away from. It’s something  I have  to do. You know my company has a big project with a partner in Singapore…”

“Work?” he scoffed.
“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 raised her head, took Amit’s hand and said—her voice trembling but 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 looked at her husband, whose eyes had turned red.

“I secretly contacted his boss and begged him not to let Amit ji go. His boss said that if Amit ji leaves, he could be promoted to Regional Director. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I want him to succeed… I want him to leave.”

“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 bought the ticket in secret. When things calmed down in two months, I would have told him and convinced him to come. I’m sorry, Mom…”

Silence once again enveloped the room.

Mrs. Sharma looked at both of them: her son, who sacrificed his career for the 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 hugged them both tightly.

“My daughter… my children… You’re both so wonderful! I’ve misunderstood you both. You’re not lazy, Priya—you’re a good wife and an ideal daughter-in-law. I almost hit you with this stick… I’ll never be able to forgive myself!”

He let go of her hand, looked at the plane ticket on the table, and his expression changed completely.

“Okay. Fine! Amit, you have to go. But not alone.
Priya will go with you!”

Amit and Priya looked at her in surprise.

“But… Mom, what about you?” Amit asked anxiously.

Mrs. Sharma smiled—a warm, kind smile.

“I’m old now. I can take care of myself. And besides… I’ll fly to visit you both soon!
This fine isn’t for separation.
It’s the gateway to your future. Don’t be afraid.
Your happiness is what matters most.”