Abandoned Hope

"Honey, maybe we should tell your mom to stop treatment." On Christmas Eve, after spending the day cooking dinner for my in-laws, I was getting ready to head to the hospital and keep my mother, Deborah Ramsey, company through the night. Just as I reached the door, my husband, Blaine Ramsey, stopped me. It took me a moment to process what he'd said. I turned and stared at him in disbelief. "What do you mean?" He lowered his head and stayed silent. My mother-in-law, Rosalia Ramsey, however, answered with an impatient glare, "It means exactly what he said. Your mother's treatment should stop. Her illness is nothing but a bottomless pit that's going to swallow who knows how much money." I immediately argued, "The doctor said she has a 90% chance of making a full recovery. After surgery and about two years of rehabilitation, she'll be fine. She has medical insurance, so after reimbursement, it won't even cost that much." My sister-in-law, Aviana Ramsey, rolled her eyes and chimed in, "Doesn't that still mean there's a 10% chance she won't make it? "And even if she does recover, she'll just be useless. She doesn't have a pension. She'll end up relying on Blaine to support her anyway. "So why not stop the treatment now? At least she won't drag everyone else down." I looked at Blaine. He kept his head down without saying a word. I didn't argue anymore. I picked up the lunch box and left for the hospital. Had they forgotten? The house they were living in—the one they called a burden—had been bought outright by the very woman they wanted to abandon. Three days later, Rosalia collapsed during a family dinner and was rushed to the hospital. It was late-stage cancer. Blaine and his family panicked, talking about selling the house to pay for her treatment. Leaning against the wall, I yawned. "Honey, I already sold the house. Maybe your mom should just stop treatment. It'd be a waste of money." Chapter 1 My mom's illness wasn't serious. She had early-stage pneumonia. The doctor said that as long as she stayed in the hospital and focused on recovering, she had a 90% chance of making a full recovery. The only inconvenience was that she had to remain hospitalized. So I told my husband, Blaine Ramsey, "It's Christmas Eve, and my mom's all alone at the hospital. After I finish making dinner, I'd like to go spend the evening with her." Blaine was in the middle of a video game. Without even looking up, he replied, "Sure. Up to you." So I went grocery shopping, cooked, cleaned, and bustled around the house. By the time everyone had finished eating and was happily enjoying themselves, I finally had a chance to leave. I packed up the meal I'd set aside for my mom and headed for the door, ready to spend Christmas Eve with her at the hospital. Just as I was about to walk out, I heard the words that stopped me cold. "Stop her treatment? What do you mean?" I turned to stare at Blaine. He lowered his head and stayed silent. My mother-in-law, Rosalia Ramsey, however, answered with an impatient glare, "It means exactly what he said. Your mother's treatment should stop. Her illness is nothing but a bottomless pit that's going to swallow who knows how much money." She grumbled loudly enough for the entire family to hear, her voice dripping with contempt. It was as if the woman she was talking about were some stranger instead of her own in-law, my mother. Clutching the lunch box, I tried to reason with her. "The doctor said she has a 90% chance of making a full recovery. After surgery and about two years of rehabilitation, she'll be fine. She has medical insurance, so after reimbursement, it won't even cost that much." My sister-in-law, Aviana Ramsey, rolled her eyes. "Doesn't that still mean there's a 10% chance she won't make it? "And even if she does recover, she'll just be useless. She doesn't have a pension. She'll end up relying on Blaine to support her anyway. "So why not stop the treatment now? At least she won't drag everyone else down.” When she finished, she casually muttered to Rosalia, "I can't believe someone has the nerve to spend her husband's family's money treating her own mother." Every word stabbed into me like a needle. I looked at Blaine. "Is that what you think too?" He kept his head lowered and didn't say a word. That silence was answer enough. My father, Edward Simmons, died when I was young. My mother, Deborah Simmons, raised me by herself, working in an electronics factory. Blaine and I had been married for three years. When it came time to buy our home, his family refused to contribute a single cent. My mother took the savings she'd spent a lifetime building and paid for the entire house in cash. Chapter 2 After we got married, I became pregnant and gave birth. Once I stopped working, my mom worried I'd feel pressured without an income, so she secretly slipped me money every month. When Blaine hit a rough patch at work and wanted to start his own business, my mom didn't hesitate to hand over the savings she'd set aside for retirement. She gave everything she possibly could so that the little family Blaine and I had built, as well as I, could have a better life. Even after she fell ill, she quietly told me, "Nathalie, I'll be fine. Just take care of your own family." But now, Blaine and his family were telling me to let her die. I clenched my fists and looked at them one last time. Without another word, I picked up the lunch box and left for the hospital. Had they forgotten that the house they were living in—the one owned by the "useless woman" they looked down on—had been paid for in full by my mother? Were they so worried I'd use their family's money to pay for my mom's treatment? Fine, then I'd sell the house. My mom wouldn't need a single dollar of theirs, and they wouldn't get to live in her house anymore. … The first thing I did at the hospital was help my mom with dinner. She was only fifty-five, but the hardships of life had etched so many lines into her face that she looked closer to sixty. "Nat, go home." She'd barely finished half her meal before she started urging me to leave. "It's Christmas Eve. If you're not home, Rosalia will have something to say about it." She'd always been more afraid that I'd suffer because of her than she was of anything happening to herself. All she'd ever wanted was the best for me. "It's okay." I just smiled and fed her another spoonful of food. "They have their family with them. I just want to be with you, Mom." After dinner, I watched her take her medication, then helped her wash up. By the time everything was done, it was only 8:30 p.m. A nurse had just handed me the physical exam reports for my in-laws' family when Blaine called. "Why aren't you home yet? The dishes are still waiting for you to wash. And Mom said the roast beef was too salty tonight. Think about what you must have done wrong and make it again tomorrow." Not once did he mention the promise he'd made that afternoon—that I could stay at the hospital with my mom. He didn't ask whether she was feeling any better, or even tell me to wish her a Happy Christmas. Looking at my mom's face, worn down by illness, I said quietly, "You can wash the dishes yourself. I'm not coming home tonight." On the other end of the line, Blaine clicked his tongue in obvious annoyance. "I already told you. Your mom should stop treatment. Why keep wasting money? I'm telling you now—I won't pay a single cent toward her medical bills." I nodded without the slightest hesitation. "Fine. Don't." "And don't even think about touching our marital assets. If I find out you spent a single dollar on your mother, don't blame me when I take you to court for misusing our marital property." I nodded again, my eyes drifting to Rosalia's health screening report. Late-stage cancer. The words stood out in bold print. "Yeah. I won't. By the way, Blaine, how much savings do your parents still have?" He froze for a second before his voice turned wary. "What are you trying to do? Nathalie, I'm warning you. If you even think about going after my parents' money for your mom, I'll divorce you." I smiled. "Don't worry. I won't." I was simply curious. If Rosalia found out she had terminal cancer... Would those savings be enough? Or would she decide she wasn't worth the expense? After hanging up, I did two things immediately. First, I handed the health screening report back to the nurse. From today on, I'd treat Blaine's family the same way they treated my mother and me. As an outsider, whatever happened to their family was none of my business. Second, I called a real estate agent to sell the house. The sooner, the better. I wasn't about to give them time to react. After searching online, I found an agency that looked reliable and dialed the number. "Hello?" A cheerful woman's voice answered. "Hi. I'd like to sell my house." "Is it urgent? It's Christmas Eve today. If you can wait a couple of days until after the Christmas, I can find you a much better buyer." Chapter 3 "That's fine," I said. "I don't care about the price. I just want to sell it as quickly as possible. Even if I have to take 10% below market value. "I only have one condition. Cash purchase, with the closing completed within the next two days." The agent, Lilianna Foster, paused for a moment before her voice turned businesslike. "Understood. I'll bring a buyer to see the house tomorrow morning at eight." After we settled on the time and place, I hung up. Meanwhile, Blaine's extended family group chat had turned into a full-blown session of tearing me apart. "Just look at this. What kind of daughter-in-law skips out on joining her in-laws on Christmas Eve to stay at the hospital with her own mother?" "Isn't she just inviting bad luck?" Rosalia, whose profile picture read "Blessed and Grateful", posted several photos of the half-eaten dinner and began playing the victim. "Tell me, Diane, how did I end up so unlucky? I got stuck with a daughter-in-law like this." Blaine's aunt, Diane Ramsey, immediately chimed in, "Exactly. Look at our Hailey. No one even had to ask—she washed all the dishes on her own. That's what a good daughter-in-law looks like." She proudly attached a photo of her eight-months-pregnant daughter-in-law, Hailey Ramsey, washing dishes in the kitchen. She had married into the family just last year. My heart ached for her. I started typing a reply. Before I could send it, Aviana jumped into the conversation. "Wasn't the whole reason Blaine married her because her dad was already dead? She only had her mom left, so there'd be no one on her side getting in the way of putting our family first. "And now, before they've even had a chance to enjoy life, that unlucky old woman goes and gets sick. If you ask me, when people get old, they should have enough sense to die instead of becoming a burden." Rosalia happily sent several voice messages. "Exactly! That's my girl. "When people get old, they shouldn't burden their children. What's the point of treatment? It's nothing but a waste of money." Blaine silently followed with a thumbs-up sticker. That was the last straw. I tagged them directly in the group chat. "Mom, Blaine, Aviana, do you really mean everything you've been saying?" The group went silent for a few seconds after realizing I'd been reading along. Then three messages popped up almost simultaneously. "Yes." "That's right." "I mean every word." Good. Smiling, I took screenshots of the entire conversation. When Rosalia received her health screening report, I hoped she'd be just as sincere about not becoming a burden on her family. … Christmas was always the busiest as we hosted the family. In previous years, I'd have been up by four in the morning. Cooking, setting the table, getting everything ready for the guests—every job Blaine and I were supposed to share somehow always ended up on my shoulders because he could never get out of bed. Rosalia, meanwhile, would walk into the kitchen the moment she woke up. She'd complain that I was too slow, too noisy, and that I couldn't even manage something this simple. But this year, I didn't leave the hospital until 7:30 a.m. I met Liliana, and together we headed to the house for the showing. "This is the property," I said. "The price is negotiable, but I'd like to close today if possible." "No problem." The buyers were a middle-aged couple eager to get their child enrolled in the neighborhood school, so they agreed without much hesitation. "Great. Let's go in." I pressed the elevator button. Third floor. My mom had carefully picked out this unit. When the front door opened, only Rosalia was home. "So you finally decided to come back? Who are these people? Who said you could bring strangers into my house?" Rosalia pointed at me as she shouted. "You two go ahead and look around. I'll grab the paperwork." I brushed past Rosalia and motioned for Lilianna and the couple to come in. "The house was purchased before the marriage, so there aren't any ownership disputes to worry about." "What house?" Rosalia grabbed my arm, completely confused. I shook her off and went into the bedroom, pulling the deed and purchase records from the safe. "Finished looking? Let's go." I waved the documents in my hand. Chapter 4 Lilianna and the couple quickly understood what I was trying to do. "We've seen enough. We're interested." Rosalia was still completely lost. "What do you mean you've seen enough? What are you talking about? Nathalie! Answer me!" I ignored her and walked out first. Even after the elevator doors closed, I could still hear her shouting after me. I knew she was panicking. Looking at the satisfied expressions on the couple's faces, I finally felt a weight lift from my shoulders. That afternoon, I signed the paperwork with Lilianna. The sale closed, and the full payment was transferred directly into my mother's bank account. Throughout the day, Blaine's family bombarded me with messages. Rather than asking me to come home, they demanded to know what I'd been doing that morning and who those people were. I never replied. Instead, I sent them a single reminder: "Don't forget to pick up your parents' health screening reports at the hospital." Seeing the endless stream of question marks and missed calls on my phone, I let out a quiet laugh and put it away. Christmas was the Ramsey family's annual dinner. Early that morning, Blaine called and ordered me to come home. It was a Ramsey tradition for every relative to gather for dinner on Christmas. And the only person who ever cooked and cleaned afterward was me. This year, I answered with just two words: "Keep dreaming." "Nathalie! Do you really think this family can't function without you? All we did was tell your mom to stop treatment! You've been throwing this tantrum since Christmas Eve. Haven't you had enough? "Fine. If this is how you want to play it, don't blame me." Blaine hung up in a rage. A moment later, a new message appeared in the family group chat. "@Everyone, because someone insists on being unreasonable, this year's family annual dinner has been moved from our house to the Red Star Hotel. Nathalie will be paying for the entire dinner. 8:00 p.m. tonight. Don't be late." Then he sent me a private message. "Honey, this is your punishment for not listening. We'll just use your mom's medical fund to pay for dinner. My mom's been craving lobster." I didn't respond. Instead, I kept reading about late-stage cancer online. Doctors advised against rich, heavy meals and greasy foods. At eight that evening, the celebration began. To rub it in, Aviana started a livestream. "Emmy, too bad you couldn't make it. Look at this lobster! This one's $3,800." "Uncle, I know you couldn't make it home from California this year, so I ordered a bottle of premium bourbon just for you. Hope you like it." "Mom, stop eating the cheap stuff! Have more lobster, oyster, and sashimi. That's where all the nutrition is!" Rosalia nodded as she stuffed another piece of sashimi into her mouth. "Okay... okay..." Without warning, her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed. "Mom? Mom! Call an ambulance!" The dinner descended into chaos, and the livestream abruptly ended. I'd expected this all along, so I was already waiting outside the ER. A few minutes later, Blaine and his family came rushing in, and Rosalia was rushed in for testing. Cancer. Late stage. The treatment would cost a fortune. Outside the ER, Aviana broke down the moment the diagnosis came back, sobbing that they had to save their mother. Blaine's hair was a mess, his eyes bloodshot. "If we have to, we'll sell the house. I'll put it on the market tomorrow. We'll do whatever it takes to pay for Mom's treatment." "Sorry to interrupt." I stepped out from the corner. My phone was looping the voice message Rosalia had sent in the family group chat the other day. "When people get old, they shouldn't burden their children. What's the point of treatment? It's nothing but a waste of money." I yawned. "Honey, I already sold the house. Maybe your mom should stop treatment, too. It'd just be a waste of money."