The original host had never noticed the small cruelties in her life. She wasn't dumb—just too straightforward, too ready to take people's words at face value. So when her mother-in-law handed her a plate of dumplings and even a burger, she had simply smiled and accepted it. The filling was cabbage and meat, yet she thought nothing of why she had only received half a portion.
She finished the food gratefully and went to bed early. Hunger had become such a familiar feeling that she hardly questioned it anymore.
But that night, when she woke up for the bathroom, the truth found her.
She stepped into the corridor, bare feet touching the cold floorboards, and paused when she heard voices coming from the next room. The thin wall barely muffled anything. She stopped breathing, instinctively eavesdropping.
Elizabeth's voice came first—sharp and unpleasant.
"Mom, I didn't expect that fatty to come back early! I'm starving again!"
Mary felt her chest tighten. She had always known she ate a lot, but hearing it said like that stung.
Vanessa replied with an irritated sigh. "How was I supposed to know she'd rush back? No wonder she's that size. And your second brother is even more stupid—her family asked him to marry her and he actually agreed. His salary is twenty pounds a month! If he kept five pounds for us, we could eat meat every day."
Elizabeth groaned dramatically. "Then what do we do? If she stays here forever, I'll never get to eat well again. Big Brother's family only gives money for themselves. And Third Brother still needs to study. We're already so poor."
"What can we do?" Vanessa muttered darkly. "We can't kick her out. And we definitely can't split the family."
"Why can't we?" Elizabeth asked.
Her mother clicked her tongue, clearly losing patience. "You stupid girl! If we split up, Ryan would have to give her all his money. He can't support her alone, so he'd use our money. Then we'd have even less! You're already at the age to talk about marriage—use your brain before you speak or your in-laws will eat you alive."
Silence followed. Even through the wall, Mary could imagine Elizabeth pouting.
After a moment, the girl muttered, "Fine, then we can't split up, and we can't make her leave. Ugh, I'm going to sleep. Goodnight, Mother."
More shuffling. Then Vanessa began complaining to her husband, her voice softer but still clear.
"This house is too small. Where are we supposed to sleep? We even gave her a whole room! Before, when Ryan came back, he squeezed in with us. Now that girl is using our daughter's room."
Philip, awakened from his sleep, grumbled loudly. "What do you want me to do? Tomorrow, just tell her to share the room with Elizabeth. She's married now, she can take care of her sister-in-law. Why are you being dumb?"
"Ryan is the real trouble," Vanessa hissed. "If he says he wants to get married, he gets married. We can't even say a word."
Philip snapped, "Are you going to sleep or nag all night? We have work tomorrow!"
The room finally fell quiet.
But the original owner had heard everything.
She had stood in the cold corridor for a long time that night, silently hugging herself. She didn't understand schemes or calculations, but she understood pain. She understood not being wanted.
Her decision had been simple—she had to split the family. It had been the only solution she could think of.
But Mary, inheriting these memories, understood more. The in-laws had used her as their brother's sacrifice. They had used Ryan's guilt. And now, they fully expected to use her—her rations, her future income, even her husband's salary.
This wasn't a family. This was a group of people hoping to squeeze a living out of someone else.
Large families, Mary knew, often hid favoritism like this.
*
The Next Morning
Mary woke with a headache—but this time, the pain wasn't from memories. It came from frustration.
When she reached the dining table, she stared at the bowl in front of her. The rice porridge was so thin it was almost transparent. The water level rose above the halfway mark.
She picked up her spoon, but her annoyance slipped out before she could stop it.
"Mother, the porridge is so watery I can't get full."
Vanessa slammed the plate of pickled vegetables on the table so hard that some pieces bounced off.
"CAN'T GET FULL? Do you think you're the only one hungry? Do you think we're feasting every day? All you know is eating! Are you a pig? No wonder you're so fat. My poor son—how unlucky he is to marry someone like you!"
Her voice was sharp enough to slice the air.
Even Philip muttered under his breath, "I'm not full either."
He didn't want to scold her, but the truth slipped out anyway.
"Then cook more tomorrow," he added. "Put more rice in the pot. That fixes it."
Mary calmly set her spoon down and looked around the table. Everyone was avoiding her eyes. Everyone knew exactly what was happening—they were rationing her portion more than anyone else's.
So she smiled.
"If that's the case," she said softly, "why don't we split the family? I can cook my own food. That way Mother won't have to worry."
She thought, If I don't eat your rice, you lose the right to complain.
Vanessa gaped at her, then sneered.
"SPLIT UP? What are you going to eat? Do you know how to farm? Do you know how to cook? What can you do?"
Her voice rose with every sentence, her anger building like steam in a kettle. The very idea that the newly married daughter-in-law wanted separation made her furious.
Mary felt her temper spike. Without another word, she placed the empty bowl down with a loud clack.
She was done swallowing insults.
Mary kept her voice steady, even though her patience felt like a thin thread ready to snap. "I can learn what I don't know," she said calmly. "If you give me the money Ryan sends, I can move out and live on my own. Then you won't have to worry about feeding me."
For a moment, there was silence.
Then Vanessa exploded.
She slammed the table so hard the bowls rattled. "Give you my son's money? Why should we? You married three days ago and now you dare talk about splitting the family? Let me warn you—if you mention it again, pack your junk and GET OUT!"
Her lips curled, her eyes wide and furious. She looked like she wanted to scratch someone.
From the side, Martha folded her arms and gave a smile that was sweet but sharp as a knife. "Sister-in-law, I don't want to criticize you but I've been in this family for three years and never once talked about dividing the household. Families only split when the elders die. If we split now, the whole village will laugh at us. Don't you understand that? You're too young and only think about freedom. If every daughter-in-law behaved like you, how would elders survive?"
Mary felt heat rise in her chest. Something inside her snapped—not lightly, not slowly, but the way dry wood cracks under pressure.
She lifted her hands and flipped the table.
Food, bowls, chopsticks—everything slammed onto the floor with a crash. The sound echoed through the entire yard.
"Why shouldn't I want to split the family?" she demanded, eyes blazing. "My brother DIED saving Ryan. Without him, your precious son wouldn't be alive. And now you treat me like a burden? I'm not just your daughter-in-law—I'm the reason your son still breathes. In this house, I am the benefactor!"
Philip jumped to his feet, face red. "Second brother's family matters still fall under MY authority! As long as this family stays together, I give the orders!"
"Then don't push me," Mary warned, her voice low with anger. "I'm not someone you can bully just because you think I'm weak."
She raised her palm and brought it down on the thick wooden table in one effortless motion.
CRACK.
The table split. A solid, heavy table—broken cleanly beneath her hand.
Everyone froze.
The chopsticks on the floor stopped wobbling.
Even the dust in the air seemed to stop moving.
Mary didn't bother explaining. She turned and walked out, her footsteps calm, her back straight, leaving a room full of pale, trembling faces behind her.