However, life seemed to be against her.
Whenever she applied for a teaching position, she was either rejected outright or dismissed after only a few days—because someone had informed the school board about her past.
She interviewed at various companies as well, but they all rejected her for lacking qualifications or experience.
Watching the numbers in her bank account shrink day by day, she had no choice but to take a job as a waitress—one she had always looked down on.
Yet not everything during that period was miserable.
She met an honest, gentle, and understanding man who not only liked her deeply but accepted her son wholeheartedly.
Seeing him play with her child, the tenderness in his eyes so sincere, Mira felt her wandering heart finally settle.
For the first time in a long while, she dared to believe she had found a home.
After dating for three months, they got married.
However, married life was nothing like she had imagined.
Before they dated, she had been impressed when he proudly told her that he worked at one of the top companies in the city.
After marriage, she discovered he was only a security guard there.
When Mira found out, she caused a huge scene—but the marriage certificate had already been signed. It was too late to take it back.
His salary wasn't as high as she had expected, but it was at least enough for a small family of three to live a modest, stable life.
Unfortunately, the reality was far from that.
His retired parents and his fifteen-year-old sister relied entirely on him. By the time he sent money home every month, not a single rupee of his salary ever reached Mira.
Instead, she had to use her own dwindling savings to buy groceries and cover daily expenses.
She couldn't buy anything for herself without her mother‑in‑law's endless nagging.
Her once fair and youthful face had turned dull and fatigued. Her closet rarely saw new clothes. The once smooth, well‑kept hands were now rough and thick with calluses.
She could hardly recognize herself in the mirror.
Mira didn't know how much longer she could endure such a life.
Her mother‑in‑law was unbelievably stingy. She counted everything down to the smallest detail—even the amount of cooking oil Mira used, even the price of vegetables she brought home.
She also refused to let Mira hire a nanny. In her words, it was a waste of money, and Mira was simply "lazy."
Mira had never met someone so stingy in her life. Reasoning was impossible. Her mother‑in‑law was utterly unreasonable, convinced that whatever she said was always right, no matter what.
Her father‑in‑law was like a stone—silent, unmoving, practically invisible in the house.
Her twelve‑year‑old sister‑in‑law was spoiled and lazy, the type who wouldn't even pick up an oil bottle if it fell on the ground.
Her husband was no help either.
He was rarely home, and even when he was, he simply sat silently like a fool, as if the chaos and arguments had nothing to do with him. He was like a completely different person from the one she had dated.
Disheartened, Mira finally decided she wanted a divorce.
But her mother‑in‑law came to her workplace, crying and begging her not to leave her son.
She even went as far as kneeling before Mira in public.
Under the condemning looks of the bystanders, Mira was forced to change her decision.
Even though the divorce failed, she hoped her mother‑in‑law would at least change some of her bad habits.
But the moment they were out of public view, the woman's expression shifted. The smugness in her eyes made Mira's heart turn cold.
After that, Mira tried multiple times to escape that family, but every attempt failed.
She once took her son and fled to another city, but her mother‑in‑law appeared at her doorstep the very next day, repeating the same performance—admitting her faults, begging for forgiveness, kneeling before her again.
Mira broke down, begging to be left alone.
But her mother‑in‑law still refused to let her go. Eventually, Mira had no choice but to follow her back into that suffocating household.
Daily nagging and complaining became a part of Mira's life.
She was completely exhausted and unable to resist—like a robot programmed to repeat the same tasks day after day.
The past two years felt like a lifetime.
Her eyes were lifeless; only a small glimmer appeared when she was with her son.
Some nights, under the bedding, she would think of her parents and cry silently beneath the moonlight.
That night was one of those nights.
A small whimpering sound came from beside her.
She saw her son frowning, sweat covering his forehead.
She hurriedly checked his temperature—and froze. His skin was burning hot.
Her husband wasn't home, as usual, and her in‑laws did not care.
Mira rushed to a kind neighbor who helped her take the child to the hospital.
The doctor told her that if she had been even a little later, it would have been extremely dangerous. Mira was overwhelmed with guilt and heartache.
After staying up all night beside her son's bed, she returned home the next morning to prepare soup for him.
The moment her mother‑in‑law saw her enter the house, she started her morning nagging.
Normally, Mira ignored her—because the more she reacted, the more the woman escalated.
But today, something felt different. Every word stabbed deeper.
She took a deep breath and continued chopping garlic, trying to stay calm.
"What a waste. You made such a big fuss over a small fever. Since your parents aren't alive, I will teach you how not to waste money… blah blah… honestly, a bastard like him will only be looked down on when he grows up. He might as well die early…"
She muttered the last part under her breath, but Mira heard it clearly.
In that moment, something snapped.
Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Maybe it was the humiliation. Or maybe it was everything—every wound, every insult, every silent scream.
Mira looked down at the dull knife in her hand.
She wondered what it would look like… painted in red.