My husband asked me to move into his mother’s house to take care of her after her stroke. For six months, I devoted all my time to caring for my mother-in-law, and yesterday he walked into the house with an unfamiliar woman and said something that left me speechless…

We had been married for twenty-two years. An ordinary marriage. We both worked, had no children. His mother was always cold towards me, but I didn’t take offense. We rarely saw each other.

Six months ago, my mother-in-law had a serious stroke. She was left bedridden. My husband came to my workplace. He asked to talk. He said that his mother was alone, with no one to take care of her, and she needed someone by her side constantly. He asked if I could move to her house.

I had a good job. Stable. I had been searching for two years after being laid off. But he looked at me in such a way that it was clear — there would be no refusing. It was his mother, and he was the only son. I agreed.

I resigned. Packed my things, moved to my mother-in-law’s house on the outskirts of town. A big old house, far from the city. My husband stayed in our apartment. His work was far away, he couldn’t commute every day. He promised to visit on weekends.

Hard days began. My mother-in-law couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. She only moved her eyes. Feeding had to be done with a spoon, bit by bit. Bathing her completely every day. Changing diapers. Turning her every two hours to prevent bedsores. I got up at night to check her breathing.

My husband gave little money. Just enough for diapers, medication, and food for my mother-in-law. There was almost nothing left for me. I lost weight quickly. Stopped wearing makeup. Wore old home clothes. Nowhere to dress up.

In the first month, my husband came every weekend. He sat for an hour or two, asked about his mother. Then he started coming less frequently. Once every two weeks. Then once a month. Work, tiredness, no time.

I called him every evening. Told him about his mother-in-law, her condition. He listened briefly. Never asked about me.

After three months, I asked him to stay with his mother for at least one day. I needed to see a doctor, and to just get out of the house. He refused. Said he didn’t know how to take care of bedridden people, that I managed better.

I stayed. Continued. Days started to look the same. Up at six. Feeding. Procedures. Cleaning. Feeding again. On repeat till night. Forgot what the city looked like. How to have normal conversations with people.

My husband called less and less. Sometimes, he didn’t pick up the phone. Wrote — in a meeting, will call back. Didn’t call back. He transferred money to my card silently.

Two months ago, he stopped coming altogether. Only transferred money. I lived off those transfers. Bought diapers, medication for my mother-in-law, food.

Yesterday, he came for the first time in two months. I was happy. Set the table, wanted to have a normal conversation. But he didn’t come alone.

He had a woman with him. Young. About 35. He brought her into the house and said — this is a colleague, she will now help take care of my mother. I was even glad. Thought — finally help.

Then he called me into another room. Explained. That they have been together for four months. That he had wanted to leave for a long time but didn’t dare to. That this woman agreed to live here, take care of his mother. That I needed to pack my things. Today.

I stood there, listening. Didn’t register immediately. He repeated. The apartment in the city remains with me, he doesn’t claim it. But I’m no longer needed here. His new woman will replace me.

I asked about his mother. He said — his mother wouldn’t understand anything, she’s not conscious. It doesn’t matter who takes care of her.

Packed my things. There wasn’t much. Didn’t buy anything for six months. Wore out old clothes. My husband called a taxi. I left.

Now I sit alone in the apartment. Look at my hands. They’ve aged in six months. The skin has coarsened from washing, cleaning. Nails broken. I gave half a year of my life. Left my job. Wrecked my health. Looked after his mother, who never liked me. And he just replaced me. Like an old rag for a new one.

Tell me, am I to blame for agreeing? Or should I have seen in advance that he was using me? And how should I live now, knowing — six months wasted on a person who appreciated nothing?

****

My husband asked me to move into his mother’s house to care for her after a stroke. I agreed without hesitation — I quit my job and devoted myself entirely to my mother-in-law. For six months I lived there without going anywhere — feeding her by spoon, washing her, changing the bedding, caring for her day and night. Yesterday he brought a young woman, gently took her hand, and introduced her to his mother as his fiancée. Then he turned to me with a cold look and told me to pack my things. And the reason he gave in front of everyone was something I could never have imagined even in my worst nightmares…
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