When My Mother Crossed the Line

My mom was famous for being the perfect wife and mother.

The house was always spotless, meals always on the table right on time.

Growing up, the thing she said to me most often was:

Aria, the way you are, what man is ever going to marry you?

Later, I got married. My husband was considerate and handled all the housework.

Watching him cook in the kitchen, my mom stood nearby, her brow furrowed tight.

"Aria, how can you let a man do these things?"

My husband poked his head out from the kitchen, smiling.

"Mom, nowadays couples share responsibilities."

She didn't say anything more, but her expression stayed dark all afternoon.

Until that day my husband worked late and I cooked dinner.

I put too much salt in the food. It was a bit salty.

My mom put down her fork, stood up, and walked behind me.

She placed both hands on my shoulders. Her grip suddenly tightened.

She forced me to my knees in front of my husband.

She looked down at me, her tone flat.

"Men need to be firm, or women won't listen. Your father taught me to be obedient this way back in the day."

The moment my knees hit the tile floor, Lucas rushed over.

"Mom!"

He pulled me up in one swift motion, anger compressed in his voice.

"What are you doing?"

I kept my head down, staring at my reddening knees, my head buzzing.

My mom looked at Lucas, then at me, and spoke with heavy sincerity.

"I wanted to teach you a lesson last time. A woman not cooking, making a man do itwhat does that look like?"

Lucas positioned me behind him, his brow knitted tight.

"Mom, what era are we living in? Who still cares about this stuff? Aria and I are husband and wife. What does it matter who cooks?"

"It matters."

My mom walked around him and stood in front of me, looking down at me from above.

"Aria, you listen to me. Men work hard outside earning money to support the family.

When they come home, they should be comfortable.

You make Lucas cook and wash disheswhat will people think of you?

What will they think of our family?"

I lifted my head and looked at her.

"Mom."

I stood up, my legs still a bit weak.

"Lucas likes doing it. He's happy to cook, and I'm happy to eat.

Our household is our business."

My mom's expression darkened.

She stopped looking at me and turned to Lucas instead.

"Lucas, you're a good kid, I know that.

But you can't spoil her like this. You can't spoil a woman.

Spoil her and she'll walk all over you."

Lucas froze for a moment, like he didn't understand.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying."

My mom spoke each word deliberately.

"Women need to be managed. If she doesn't listen, you need to show her who's boss.

Your fatherat first he couldn't bear to raise his hand either.

Later he understood: spare the rod, spoil the child."

My head exploded with a thunderous boom.

"Mom!"

I was practically shouting.

"What are you saying?!"

My mom turned to look at me, something unfamiliar in her eyes.

Like disappointment, yet also like certainty.

"Aria, you think I'm trying to make things hard for you?"

She sighed and reached out to touch my face.

I turned my head away. Her hand hung in midair, then withdrew.

"I've been through this, I know how to live.

Men need to act like men, women need to act like women.

You're young now, you don't understand. In a few years you'll know..."

"I don't want to know."

I interrupted her.

"Mom, how you and Dad livethat's your business.

How Lucas and I livethat's our business."

My mom looked at me for a long time.

Then she raised her hand and slapped me across the face.

"What kind of attitude is this?"

Her voice remained calm.

"Talking back to your mother? This is the manners you learned after getting married?"

Lucas stepped in front of me in one stride, blocking me behind him.

"Mom, you've gone too far."

My mom looked at him and actually smiled.

"Lucas, I'm helping you. If you don't control her today, tomorrow she'll be walking all over you."

Lucas's face flushed red, his chest heaving violently. I could feel his hand holding mine trembling.

"Mom."

He took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Our household doesn't have those kinds of rules. I won't hit Aria, and I won't let anyone else hit her."

My mom's expression finally changed.

She looked at Lucas, then at me behind him. Her lips moved like she wanted to say something.

In the end, she said nothing. She turned and went into the guest room, slamming the door shut with a bang.

The guest room door opened.

My mom came out, fully dressed, carrying that canvas bag she'd used for over a decade.

"I'm going home."

She stood in the middle of the living room, not looking at me or Lucas.

"You two live your lives. I won't interfere."

Lucas stood up.

"Mom, it's so late..."

"Don't worry about me."

She cut him off, finally turning her gaze to me.

"Aria, I hit you today for your own good. You don't appreciate it.

When you suffer later, don't come crying to me."

I stood up, meeting her gaze.

"Mom, I won't think you hitting me means you're doing it for my own good.

And I won't think you're right just because you say it's for my own good."

My mom looked at me, her expression complex.

Anger, disappointment, and something else I couldn't read.

After a long moment, she picked up her bag and walked to the door.

Then she pulled it open and walked out.

I stood there, tears finally falling.

Lucas came over and pulled me into his arms.

"It's okay now."

He gently patted my back.

"It's okay now."

I buried my face in his chest and said in a muffled voice:

"Lucas, I'll never become like her."

He held me tighter.

"I know."

Before bed, I received a SnapChat message from my mom.

Very long. I read it for a long time.

The last paragraph said:

"You think I wanted to hit you?

You think I want to be the villain?

This is how I lived my whole life.

Your grandmother taught me this way too.

If a woman doesn't bow her head, life becomes impossible.

You don't understand now, but you will later."

I stayed silent for a while, then replied.

"Mom, I don't want to understand."

Two months later, I found out I was pregnant.

Somehow the news reached my mom.

The very next morning, she showed up at our door carrying bags large and small.

"You're pregnant and didn't tell me?"

She complained as soon as she came in.

"The first three months are most critical.

You young people don't know anything.

I need to move in and take care of you."

Lucas and I exchanged glances, neither of us saying anything.

She just moved in like that.

Honestly, for that month, my mom truly devoted herself.

She varied the meals every day, handled all the housework, even insisted on washing Lucas's underwear.

Lucas tried to stop her a few times. She said "men's hands are too rough, they'll ruin the clothes," and insisted on doing it herself.

I thought maybe she'd changed.

After getting pregnant, Lucas accompanied me to every prenatal checkup, saying it was to monitor fetal development.

That day, after the ultrasound, he looked at the screen with bright eyes, smiling tenderly.

"Strong heartbeat, developing well," he pointed at the blurry little figure on the screen, "a healthy little girl."

"A daughter?"

He squeezed my hand.

"Are you happy?"

I nodded, a strange warmth rising in my chest.

A little girl, wearing pretty dresses, with little braids, like what I wanted to become as a child but never did.

Just as he finished speaking, my mom came out of the kitchen carrying a fruit plate.

"What daughter?"

Lucas answered with a smile.

"Mom, I said Aria's probably carrying a daughter."

The fruit plate landed on the coffee table with a dull thud.

My mom's expression changed.

She came over and sat down next to me, looking at me and asking each word deliberately:

"Did you get it checked? You're sure it's a daughter?"

"Not yet."

I said.

"It might not be accurate."

"Then it's not accurate."

She spoke decisively.

"Definitely not accurate."

Lucas looked confused.

My mom interrupted him, her voice rising.

"Your father looked too back then, said I was carrying a son. And the result? I gave birth to her!"

She pointed at me, her finger trembling.

I suddenly understood what she wanted to say.

"Mom."

I spoke slowly.

"You want a grandson?"

"I want one?"

She looked at me, her expression complex.

"Aria, I'm thinking of you. If your first child is a daughter, what will your in-laws think? Lucas won't say it, but will he really be happy inside?"

"Mom."

Lucas spoke seriously.

"I like daughters."

My mom acted like she didn't hear him and continued:

"While it's still early, get it taken care of. Rest up, get pregnant again next year."

I shot to my feet.

"Mom, what are you saying?!"

She was even more agitated than me. She stood up and grabbed my wrist.

"Aria, wake up! This is important, you can't be reckless!

The first child must be a sonthat's the rule!

If you give birth to a daughter, you'll never hold your head up in your in-laws' family!"

"Our family doesn't have that rule."

Lucas came over, pulled my hand from her grasp, and protected me behind him.

"Mom, I've told youour affairs are our own business. I like daughters. Having a daughter makes me happy."

"You're happy?"

My mom looked at him and let out a cold laugh.

"You're happy now. When you're old and everyone else has kids and grandkids running around while you have no one, will you be happy then?"

Lucas took a deep breath, like he was trying hard to restrain himself.

"Mom, I don't like hearing that.

Why can't a daughter carry on the family line?

Besides, having boys or girls is determined by biology, not by what we want."

My mom glanced at me but said nothing.

The next evening, just as I was about to go to bed, my mom came in carrying a bowl of herbal medicine.

"This is gender-changing medicine."

She said.

" I had someone get it from back homeit wasnt cheap. They said if you drink this, even a daughter can turn into a son"

I looked at the bowl, feeling somewhat powerless.

"Mom, have you lost your mind?"

"You're the one who's lost your mind!"

Her voice turned shrill.

"I'm doing this for your own good, spent so much money to get this, and you're still ungrateful?"

Lucas, who had just finished showering and emerged from the bathroom, took the bowl and sniffed it.

His expression changed.

Changed drastically.

"Mom."

His voice was tight.

"Who gave you this medicine?"

Lucas slammed the bowl down on the table heavily, anger compressed in his voice.

"This is full of abortion drugs! If you drink this, forget changing genderboth mother and child won't survive!"

My mom froze.

"That's impossible."

She shook her head.

"They said it was a traditional family recipe..."

"I'm a doctor!"

Lucas cut her off.

"It's all abortion medication! Are you trying to kill Aria?"

"So what if it aborts? It aborts, that's all."

My mom spoke matter-of-factly, chin raised.

"It's just a girl anyway. What's so precious about her?

When she grows up, she'll belong to someone else's family.

Get rid of it now, have another one later."

My whole body trembled.

"Mom."

My voice shook.

"What you just saidare you serious?"

"When have I ever joked with you?"

She took a step forward.

"Aria, don't be foolish.

I've been through this, I know the suffering of not having a son.

Your father back then..."

"Don't mention Dad!"

I yelled at her for the first time.

"The suffering you endured your whole life was because you married someone like Dad!

He hit you, cursed you, treated you like a work animal.

You don't hate himinstead you learned his ways, and now you want to use them on me?"

My mom froze.

"You think I didn't see?"

My eyes burned.

"When I was little and he got drunk and hit you, you hid in the kitchen crying.

The next day you still served him tea and water.

I asked you why you didn't leave.

You said women have to accept their fate. But now?

You want me to accept this fate too?"

"I'm doing this for your own good!"

"For my own good?"

I pointed at the bowl of medicine.

"That's abortion medication, and you brought it for me to drinkthat's for my own good?"

"So what!"

Her voice turned shrill.

"It's just a girl in your belly! What good is a girl?

Have I denied you food or clothes since you were small?

But once you got married you sided with outsiders, talking back to your own motherthis is the punishment for raising a daughter!"

I looked at her and suddenly laughed.

"Mom, I'll never become like you in this lifetime. My daughter won't either."

Nine months later.

In the early morning of early March, after six hours of labor in the delivery room, I finally heard crying.

Lucas held my hand, covered in sweat.

When the nurse brought the baby over, he looked at me first. Tears dropped onto the back of my hand.

"Aria, it's a daughter."

His voice choked, his eyes completely red.

"She's beautiful."

I looked down at that wrinkled little face and suddenly smiled.

How wonderfula daughter.

We named our daughter Dot.

Lucas held her and wouldn't let go, clumsily learning the positions the nurses taught.

He kept murmuring "Daddy's little sweetheart," "Daddy's little princess"he murmured so much even the nurses laughed.

The delivery had exhausted all my strength. My eyelids felt heavy as lead.

"Sleep."

He gently patted my hand.

"I'll go handle the birth certificate, then come right back to watch over you."

"Watch the baby..."

"Don't worry, I'm sitting right outside the door."

I nodded, watching him tiptoe out.

I closed my eyes, heard him carefully leave, heard my mom talking with the nurses in the outer room.

My daughter occasionally whimpered twice, like a little kitten.

Then everything went quiet.

When I opened my eyes again, the light in the room had changed.

The light coming through the curtain gap had shifted from golden to gray-whitewho knows how much time had passed.

I instinctively looked toward the baby bed.

Empty.

The blanket was folded neatly, the sheets without a single wrinkle, as if no one had ever lain there.

My heart seized violently. I propped myself up.

"Mom?"

My mom walked in from the outer room, carrying a thermos.

"You're awake? Perfect timing. I made you chicken soup. Drink it while it's hot."

"Where's the baby?"

My voice trembled slightly.

She glanced at me, set the thermos on the bedside table, and said:

"Sent away."

"...What?"

"Sent away."

She brushed dust off herself.

"It's just a girl. What's the point of keeping her? I had someone find her a good family. Their situation's quite goodshe'll have a good life."

My head felt like someone had punched it hard, buzzing.

I stared at her blankly, like looking at a stranger.

"Have you lost your mind?"

I heard my own voice, so shrill it didn't sound like it came from my own throat.

"That's my daughter!"

"What's so good about raising a girl?"

She frowned.

"Don't you understand? Give birth to a daughter and you think your mother-in-law will be happy? You think Lucas really doesn't want a son? I'm thinking of you..."

"Thinking of me?"

I threw off the covers. My legs were so weak I almost couldn't stand.

"That's my daughter! Flesh of my flesh! What right do you have to give her away?"

"I'm your mother!"

"You don't deserve to be!"

The moment those words left my mouth, I saw hurt flash across her face.

But quickly, that emotion was replaced by impatience.

"Enough, enough. Stop making a scene. Their situation's goodshe won't suffer.

You rest, have a son in a couple years, and you'll thank me then..."

I grabbed my phone, my fingers shaking so badly I could barely press the screen.

"What are you doing?"

Her voice changed.

"Calling the police."

"Have you lost your mind?"

She rushed over to grab my phone.

"That's your own mother! You want to send your own mother to jail?"

I dodged her hand and pressed those three numbers.

"Yes, I'm calling the police."

I stared directly into her eyes, each word deliberate.

"Hello, I want to report a crime. Someone took my child and gave her away without my consent."

"This is human trafficking. Please come immediately!"