I asked my son what my daughter-in-law would like as a birthday gift. His reply shocked me, “Get her a dress two sizes smaller, so that she realizes she needs to lose weight.” I kept quiet and bought her a dress. She opened my beautifully wrapped present. My furious son yelled at me.
“Why would you get her a dress in her actual size, Mom?” he snapped, eyes blazing. “That’s just encouraging her to stay like this.”
My daughter-in-law, Mila, froze, the smile on her face crumbling like dry clay. She looked down at the floral dress she was holding, the exact color of spring—soft blue with tiny white daisies. It matched her eyes, the ones that hadn’t sparkled much lately.
“I thought she deserved a gift that made her feel beautiful, not ashamed,” I said quietly, placing my tea on the table without looking at him.
Mila cleared her throat and muttered, “Thank you, really, this means a lot,” and excused herself to the bathroom.
My son, Jared, kept grumbling under his breath. “You always take her side. You don’t even live with her. You don’t know what it’s like. She’s lazy now. She doesn’t even try.”
I took a deep breath. I wasn’t going to argue, not today. But I couldn’t ignore the ache in my chest. Something in Mila’s eyes reminded me of my younger self, and something in Jared’s words sounded too much like his father.
That night, after the small birthday dinner, I helped Mila wash the dishes while Jared watched TV, scrolling on his phone.
She smiled gently, eyes red from crying earlier. “Thank you for the dress. It’s been a while since I’ve worn anything new that actually fits me.”
“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” I said, drying a plate. “You look beautiful in it.”
She looked down at her hands, quiet for a moment. “Jared says I’ve let myself go. That I don’t care anymore. But I’m tired, you know? I work from home, I handle the baby, cook, clean… I barely get time to wash my hair. I didn’t gain weight on purpose.”
I nodded. “I know, Mila. And you don’t have to justify yourself. You’re doing your best.”
She swallowed hard. “I used to run marathons before we had Eli. I loved it. It was the only time I felt free. Now I can’t even take a five-minute shower without a crying toddler.”
“Would you ever want to run again?” I asked.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
TAP → NEXT PAGE → 👇
