Mushroom Lies: A Daughter-in-Law's Struggle

My mother-in-law Miranda loved picking mushrooms, saying mushroom chicken soup was very nourishing.

She often cooked it, specifically for my husband Austin.

Yet, she never allowed me to have any, not even a spoonful of broth.

Every time, she made up an excuse to send me out to buy things.

If I refused, what awaited me was my husband's violent outbursts.

This time, I obediently agreed-even though it had only been five days since I had a miscarriage. The sun was blazing outside, but I still had to go.

1

At 6 a.m., Miranda barged into my room in a flurry and snapped, "Still not awake? Didn't I call yesterday to let you know I'd come to cook chicken soup for my son? Austin works so hard to support you-do you have any idea how tough he has it? And here you are, still lazing around..."

She went on scolding, but these were the only sentences I clearly heard.

At this point, it had only been five days since I lost my baby. It wasn't due to health problems; rather, Austin had come home drunk, beaten me brutally, and caused my miscarriage.

This wasn't the first time.

The first time it happened, I fled to my parents' house. He came, kneeled in apology, promising it would never happen again.

I forgave him, but the violence only worsened.

Of course, this time I forgave him again. Like Miranda often said, a woman who couldn't even keep a baby was useless.

Dragging myself out of bed, I walked into the kitchen and saw mushrooms lying on the table.

Suddenly, a sharp slap hit my back as Miranda scolded fiercely, "What are you staring at? Go wash those mushrooms right now!"

I frowned and asked, "Miranda, where did this mushroom come from? I've never seen you bring it home before. Could it be poisonous?"

As expected, Miranda brushed it off with her usual nonchalance. "Look at you, so clueless. This is a rare mushroom-perfect for stewing with chicken soup. It's super nourishing. I was out there before dawn, waiting to snag it. Otherwise, someone else would've grabbed it first. Hurry up, stop dawdling. Emalee is coming over soon. Let her use your computer, and don't be stingy with family like last time."

The mere mention of my sister-in-law Emalee sent a spark of anger flaring inside me.

Half a year ago, I was still working at the company. I'd just drafted a new proposal-hadn't even saved it yet-when Emalee deleted it.

She had the nerve to play the victim, saying it wasn't on purpose. I was so furious I slapped her across the face.

That unsaved proposal cost me my job.

Without a word, Austin slapped me twice, knocking me to the ground, then kicked me in the stomach.

"How dare you hit my sister? Who do you think you are?" he shouted.

Miranda egged him on from the sidelines. "Beat her! Teach her a lesson! How dare she lay a hand on my daughter?"

He didn't stop until blood started pooling between my legs.

That was how I lost my first child.

I lost my job too. I ran back to my parents' house, swearing I'd divorce him. But my mom said remarriage would be tough and humiliating.

Austin showed up at my family's doorstep, groveling-kneeling, even hitting himself like a madman to apologize.

I gave in and went back. What I got in return was worse beatings.

He hid my phone, cutting me off from the world for a whole month.

Then he started staying out all night, coming home to crash on the couch, giggling at his phone like an idiot.

Miranda kept bringing over mushrooms-sometimes even packing a bowl in a thermos to take with her when she left.

I started to suspect something.

As for who she was taking it to, I didn't bother digging deeper.

What truly crushed me, though, was a call from the insurance company.

They told me Austin had taken out a life insurance policy on me.

The beneficiary? Him.

2

While I was lost in thought, the doorbell rang. I opened it to see Emalee standing there, dressed like some wannabe cool kid.

A flicker of disgust crossed my face. She looked down on me just as much.

"Miranda, your darling daughter's here," I called out.

"Aylin, can you wash my clothes for me? I just got back from school," Emalee said casually, strolling into the living room.

Outside the door sat her oversized white suitcase.

Every time, she'd pile up a month's worth of clothes-pants, shirts, even underwear-and dump them on me to wash.

I let out a soft grunt, hauled the suitcase to the balcony, and opened it.

A wave of stench hit me. Holding back my nausea, I tossed her stuff into the laundry bucket piece by piece.

From the kitchen, I could hear Miranda and Emalee chatting faintly.

"Miranda, this mushroom smells amazing," Emalee cooed.

"Of course it does," Miranda replied with a laugh. "It's a rare mushroom-stewed with chicken soup, it's the best tonic."

Emalee always played the sweet little girl around family.

"Then I'm eating extra!"

"Don't worry, you little glutton, there's plenty for you," Miranda said warmly.

"Go call your brother and ask when he's getting back."

I smirked to myself. Eat up. Eat as much as you can.

Crouching down, I zipped up the suitcase, shoved it into a corner of the balcony, and glanced outside.

Our apartment was in the building right by the complex entrance, seventh floor-perfect view.

Sure enough, I spotted Austin dragging a suitcase, a young woman clinging to his arm.

I quietly pulled out my phone, zoomed in, and snapped a few pictures.

When did I first notice?

I guess I owe it to Miranda's habit of packing up chicken soup to go. My father-in-law passed years ago, so I assumed she'd found herself a new fling.

Three months back, I caught her carrying a thermos toward another building.

She walked into a third-floor apartment, and a woman opened the door.

While Austin was away on a business trip, I staked out the place. A young woman came out-pregnant, maybe five or six months along.

Miranda fussed over her, holding her arm like she was fragile.

My eyes burned with tears.

I used to be young too. I stuck by Austin through instant noodle days until we had a car and a home-seven whole years. To keep our careers steady, I put off having kids. This year, I'd even planned to quit my job and focus on starting a family. But he hit me with this betrayal instead.

After that miscarriage six months ago, the doctor said my chances of conceiving again were slim.

Miranda started picking at everything I did. When I finally got pregnant again, Austin found an excuse to make me lose it.

Now I knew why.

I stepped back into the bedroom from the balcony and caught my reflection in the mirror.

I didn't look like a 30-year-old anymore-wrinkles everywhere, sallow skin...

The smell of chicken soup wafted through the apartment. Then came the sound of the front door opening.

"Mom, smells great!" Austin called out.

I hurried to greet him, taking his suitcase and jacket with a forced smile. "Honey, you're finally back!"

Austin glanced at me, feigning concern.

"Why aren't you resting in bed? You just had a miscarriage."

At those words, tears welled up in my eyes.

He softened his voice. "Don't cry, it breaks my heart."

Miranda brought out the thermos and set it on the table, muttering, "What's with the drama? It's your own fault for being so useless."

"Mom, ease up," Austin said.

He helped me back to the bedroom and told me to lie down and rest.

Watching him walk out, I couldn't stop the cold laughter echoing in my head.

Every time he beat me, he'd play nice for a while after-extra attentive.

As long as I played along, I could avoid the fists.

3

"Aylin, take out the trash!"

Miranda barked, loud enough to make sure I heard.

I got up from the bed and cracked the door open just enough to peek out.

Emalee was grabbing a garbage bag in one hand and the thermos in the other.

I knew exactly where she was headed-to that woman.

A laugh bubbled up inside me as I gently shut the door.

Would that woman and her baby drop dead after eating this "love-filled" soup?

For the first time in a while, I felt a rush of joy.

Suppressing my excitement, I put on my usual gloomy face and stepped out.

"Miranda, let me help you."

She was in the kitchen prepping other dishes while Austin lounged on the couch, glued to his phone.

Miranda shot me a look. "Look at you. If you collapse, your mom will come yelling at me again."

Austin glanced over too. I knew if I clashed with Miranda, he'd hurl his phone at me without a second thought.

I forced a smile and shook my head. "Miranda, I've rested enough. I'll just chop some veggies or wash something-nothing strenuous."

Her tone softened a bit. "Fine, hurry up then. I can't do it all myself."

I joined her in the kitchen and started helping.

She'd gathered a ton of those "rare mushrooms"-even had a basket left over. Said she'd use them to make oil for frying later.

"So fragrant," she bragged.

Half an hour later, Emalee came back.

I started to worry. If that woman ate first and something happened, she'd call Austin for sure.

Then my plan to take them all down at once would fall apart.

My mind raced for a backup.

On second thought, taking out one would do for now. The rest could wait.

Just then, Austin's phone rang. He picked it up.

"Yeah, got it," he said.

My heart skipped. Had she already eaten?