The Price of Indifference

Chapter 1: The Unwanted Return

My name is Audrey, and I had been married for just over a year when my mother-in-law delivered a blow that rearranged my entire world. I’d spent that year tirelessly trying to win her approval, pouring my energy into every task, every request, every polite conversation. It seemed, however, that all my efforts were for nothing.

“I’m giving you back,” she stated, her voice flat, devoid of emotion, as if she were returning a faulty appliance.

“What? Return?” I stammered, utterly perplexed. The word hung in the air, sharp and disorienting. I was completely taken aback. But my confusion, my shock, my burgeoning hurt—none of it mattered. My mother-in-law simply ushered me into her car and drove. Her intention was clear: she was taking me to my parents’ house. They lived only a few minutes away, a brief drive that felt like an eternity.

When we pulled up to my childhood home, she didn’t bother to knock. Instead, she bellowed loudly at the closed front door. “Hey, come on out!”

Inside, I heard a thumping sound, a hurried scramble. My father appeared almost immediately, his face etched with a question. “Oh, can I help you?” he asked, ever polite, ever welcoming.

“I’m sorry, but I have to speak with you,” my mother-in-law replied, her tone deliberately formal, dripping with an unspoken accusation.

“A talk? Let’s hear it inside. Come on in,” my father responded, a smile still gracing his lips, unaware of the storm brewing.

My mother-in-law shook her head dismissively. “We can talk here. We’re only here to give your useless daughter back.”

Useless daughter? The words hit me like a physical blow. My father’s expression shifted instantly, the warmth in his eyes replaced by a dangerous chill. “What do you mean, useless?” he asked, his voice tight with suppressed anger.

“I mean exactly what I said,” she insisted, her chin jutting out defiantly. “Don’t you understand unless I tell you? A wife with a monthly salary of only five hundred dollars is a faulty product. Defective.”

Defective? My father’s face transformed, his features contorting with fury. I recognized that look. It was the face he wore just before he unleashed a force of nature. A tremor of fear ran through me, but there was nothing I could do. My mother-in-law, oblivious to the inferno she was igniting, continued to speak ill of me.

“You know what? She can’t do a thing around the house, and she doesn’t make much money,” she accused.

“And now you want to return her?” my father inquired, his voice taut, stretched to its breaking point.

At that moment, drawn by the commotion, my mother emerged from the house, her gentle face clouded with concern. My mother-in-law didn’t even glance at her. She kept her focus solely on my father. “That’s what I said. I’m returning such a wife, so the parents should accept responsibility.”

“I see. I understand what you mean,” my father replied, his voice eerily calm now. He took one look at my mother, a silent communication passing between them. Then, they both nodded.

“Well, then there’s nothing we can do. Let us take responsibility and close the company,” my father uttered, his voice heavy with a decision that sent a shiver down my spine.

“Yes, we need to accept responsibility and close the company,” my mother added firmly.

“What? You’re going to close the business?” My mother-in-law’s smug expression finally cracked, replaced by genuine shock. “Wait, what company are you referring to?” my father-in-law, who had just arrived, asked, visibly upset.

“You’re asking us to take responsibility. It’s our company. What else could it be?” my father stated flatly.

I couldn’t help but sigh, a wave of weariness washing over me. He was furious, his fury a simmering volcano. What should I do? I knew from experience that once he reached this state, there was no stopping him. My father, when serious, would always follow through on his promises. Particularly when it came to me, because he adored me so much.

Chapter 2: A Fragile Childhood and a Digital Awakening

Why was my father so devoted to me, so fiercely protective? It had everything to do with my childhood. From a young age, I was extremely frail. It seemed as though my body was made of glass—if something untoward happened, even a minor change in routine, I’d immediately succumb to a fever and be confined to bed. Every few weeks, like clockwork, a fever would grip me, rendering me weak and listless for a week or more.

This meant I couldn’t attend elementary school much, and consequently, I rarely played with friends. My world often narrowed to the four walls of my bedroom. My mother would stay by my side when I fell ill, her gentle presence a constant comfort. And my father, consumed by worry, would often be unable to complete any work. Perhaps it was precisely because of my frailty that he loved me even more than usual.

Being physically weak wasn’t entirely bad. My parents, desperate to keep me occupied during my prolonged bedridden spells, provided me with a myriad of distractions. They bought me books, video games, and other items designed to stimulate my mind when my body couldn’t keep up. My older brother, healthy and active, was often consumed by a fierce jealousy. I was the only one who could be bought so many things.

Among these treasures, I was particularly fond of my laptop. It was my father’s old work computer, a secondhand device he’d upgraded from. It might not have been cutting-edge, but for an elementary school student, it was a universe. I could draw pictures, crude at first but filled with imagination. I could play simple games. Most importantly, I could connect to the internet and peer out at what was going on in the world, a world I rarely got to experience firsthand.

I spent most of my time in bed, so the computer became a whole new world to me. Perhaps I can make my own world here. That is how I became interested in computers, how a fascination with pixels and code began to bloom within me. It started with simple children’s drawings, but I eventually moved on to more complex computer graphics. Fascinated by the possibilities of 3D, I began to study illustration and graphic design with almost obsessive dedication.

That’s how I ended up becoming a graphic designer. Even though I’m weak, I can handle this. After graduating from high school, I began working as a graphic designer from home. However, I encountered numerous difficulties in the beginning. I was largely self-taught, lacking any specialized formal knowledge, and I had no idea how to find work. My body isn’t in good enough shape to go to work, so I’ll just have to make do. Commuting to a traditional job was simply not an option. In other words, the only way for me to sustain myself was to take on work independently, at my own pace, and complete it from home.

It was daunting, but the thought that I could support myself, could live an independent life, fueled me. I spent many days researching on the internet, piling hard work on top of hard work. I persisted, and gradually, more and more people began to recognize my talent and dedication. The same clients approached me again, or they introduced me to new ones through word-of-mouth. My freelance work gradually began to take on the characteristics of a stable, fulfilling job. Five years passed in a blur of late nights and creative breakthroughs.

My father approached me with a proposal at that point. “Audrey,” he said one evening, “do you want to make a commercial for a construction company?”

It was an unexpected request, but one that filled me with quiet pride. My father owned and operated a local construction company. He used to specialize in building houses on contract, but now remodeling homes was his main source of income. It was a small operation, with only three employees—my father, my mother, and my brother—but it was a well-known and respected construction company in our neighborhood.

“Are you sure you want me to do this?” I asked. “If it were a job, I’d be paid, right?”

“I didn’t request it because you’re my daughter,” my father replied, his eyes serious. “I’m asking because I believe you have good advertising tastes.”

I thanked my father for his words, a lump forming in my throat. My design was later used as an insert advertisement in the local newspaper. I also made a professional website for the construction company. Of course, because we were a local company, we weren’t well-known on a national scale. But locals would approach me and say, “I saw your ad! It’s good.” I couldn’t stop smiling—such acknowledgment made me incredibly happy.

At the same time, my advertisement was also turned into a poster. These posters were proudly displayed at the company’s entrance and on bulletin boards maintained by the local community association. I can stand on my own feet. I can live independently. Meanwhile, my posters became the talk of the town. The daughter of the construction company is a designer. Such rumors began to circulate. As a result, the locals began to approach me for assistance with their own ventures.

Chapter 3: A Partnership and a Proposal

Then someone came to see me one day, specifically seeking my skills. It was an electrician from the town, a familiar face from our community. He approached my father with a straightforward request: “Your daughter is a designer. Can you create our advertisements?”

“I’ll ask Audrey about it,” my father said, a hint of pride in his voice. Actually, the town electrician was one of our most important clients. While it was colloquially called the “town electrician,” in reality, it was a full-fledged electrical construction company. They handled everything from installing air conditioners and fiber optic lines to complex electrical wiring. Whenever our construction company needed electrical work for a remodeling project, we always called on them.

“So Audrey, can you do it for me?” my dad asked. I understood they were an essential business partner, and I respected their work. So I readily accepted the offer.

Sometime later, I asked my father to deliver the finished advertisement. It turned out even better than I had expected, and the electrician was quite pleased. He even came to my house to thank me personally. But it wasn’t the elder electrician I knew well. It was a young man, tall and courteous, who bowed deeply in gratitude.

“I just wanted to thank you for the wonderful job you did,” he said, his voice warm and sincere.

“Who are you?” I asked, a little surprised.

“Oh, my name is Jeremiah. My father is the electrician,” he replied, a charming smile gracing his lips. It was Jeremiah, the electrician’s son, who had come to greet me. He was a college graduate, currently helping out in the family business.

“So, you will eventually become an electrician?” I asked.

“I plan to take over the business,” Jeremiah confirmed, his eyes sparkling with ambition.

“Then we might be friends for a long time,” I said, a genuine smile spreading across my face.

“Yes, I would like that as well,” he added, “especially with an attractive person like you.”

“What, me?” I was genuinely surprised. Attractive? I had never been in a relationship due to my fragile health and limited social circle. Could it be that I was being flirted with? The thought sent a sudden rush of warmth through me, painting my face bright red.

In the end, we only exchanged contact information that day, but it wasn’t business contact information. It was our personal details. I had never done anything like this before. The novelty made me so nervous that I couldn’t sleep that night.

After that, Jeremiah and I kept in touch. In between our work schedules, we would send each other messages, detailing the day’s events, sharing our hobbies, discussing favorite things. It became a daily routine, a lifeline connecting our busy lives. Eventually, the digital conversations blossomed into something more, and we started dating.

However, our relationship was far from conventional. We couldn’t do any of the things that normal couples typically do. First, I was too frail to travel far on dates. We could only go out together to a neighborhood park when I was feeling well enough. We were never able to go on a normal date like watching a movie or having dinner out. Another major reason was that our days off simply did not match. Because I was taking on work privately, I was able to take time off freely. But that was not the case with Jeremiah. Even on his rare days off, he often received urgent requests to repair household appliances.

Despite all this, despite the fact that I couldn’t do anything typical of a normal lover, it didn’t cause me any trouble. We could always keep in touch on our phones, exchanging words, sending messages, sharing our lives in snippets. For me, constantly being in bed with a fever was normal, so the limitations felt less like a constraint and more like an extension of my daily reality. We grew our love in this quiet, digital way, and a few years later, we decided to get married.

Chapter 4: The Creeping Demands

I was to move into Jeremiah’s house. Naturally, Jeremiah’s parents knew me well from my father’s business, and my mother-in-law, initially, seemed kind. “Audrey,” she had said, “just take care of the housework as long as it’s not too much for you.”

“I understand,” I had replied, genuinely grateful.

My father-in-law was also kind to me in the beginning. “When you have time, will you make some traditional pop-ups for the store?” he asked, referencing my design skills.

“I’ll take care of it,” I replied, pleased to contribute.

I thought I was getting along wonderfully with my new in-laws because of this initial warmth, but that was only in the beginning. Gradually, almost imperceptibly at first, my mother-in-law began to ask me to take care of various things, the requests subtly increasing in frequency and scope.

“I’m going to be out of town for a while, so can you watch the store for me?” she asked one day, her tone casual.

“Sure, but I’m working too,” I said, a slight hesitation in my voice.

“Just stay at the counter. You can work there too, right?” she suggested.

“If you don’t mind if I bring my laptop, I’ll take care of it,” I responded, already feeling the pressure to comply.

In this way, my mother-in-law began to ask me to watch the store more and more often. My father-in-law also started asking me for favors beyond my established skills. “Could you make a website for the store?” he inquired.

“What? I’m not an expert,” I replied, genuinely taken aback.

“Just something simple, okay? Please?” he added. Despite my hesitation, my father-in-law pushed me into creating a website for the electronics company. It was a struggle, but I did it.

After that, my in-laws would ask me to do something for them at every opportunity. One after another, they would ask me to do this, that, and the other. It was a never-ending stream of demands, chipping away at my time, my energy, my own work.

Eventually, my mother-in-law graduated to even more direct demands regarding household chores. “Audrey, I’m sorry, but could you do the cleaning for me?” she stated one morning.

“What? I have work to do, too,” I retorted.

“What are you talking about? You’re the wife. Can’t you at least do that?” she insisted, her voice sharp.

“Yes, yes,” I replied, the fight draining out of me. In the end, I was forced to do the cleaning. Once I took on the job, there was no backing down. After cleaning, there was cooking, then laundry, and gradually the amount of housework increased exponentially. I was also made to take care of the store, often for entire days.

The relentless demands meant I couldn’t do my own work. I had no choice but to cut back drastically on all my projects. Naturally, my income decreased, plummeting from what it once was. But I was already married, and Jeremiah was paying for my living expenses, so I wasn’t worried about the financial aspect. But that wasn’t the problem. The real problem was the toll it took on my fragile health.

“I think I have a fever today,” I said one morning, my voice weak. I was so tired that I’d finally caught a fever again. I told my mother-in-law, “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to rest for a while.”

When I told her, her face hardened. She wasn’t happy. “I can’t believe you’d get a fever over something like that,” she muttered. But then, as if realizing she needed to soften her tone, she added, “Oh, yes, yes, I understand. Just go back to bed.” She said this casually, dismissively, and quickly left the room.

I might have offended her, I thought, a pang of regret in my chest. But it was true that my body wasn’t listening to me, so there was nothing I could do. I lay down on the bed, feeling utterly defeated.

After a while, Jeremiah came in, his face etched with concern. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m sorry,” I replied, feeling guilty.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” he continued, gently stroking my hair.

“I know, but your parents…” I began. I tried to explain that I had no choice, that my in-laws had forced me into doing all the chores.

But then Jeremiah looked at me suspiciously. “Why don’t you just say no?” he uttered, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

“But I…” I started.

“You’re an adult. You should at least express your opinion,” he interrupted, his tone laced with impatience.

Jeremiah didn’t understand anything. If this were a proper job, I would definitely say no. But the other party was my in-laws, his parents. If I rejected my mother-in-law, it might cause problems later on. It was the same with my father-in-law. If I complained, and my father-in-law hated me, he might say, “Get a divorce.” This was why I could not disobey my in-laws.

Aside from that, I was profoundly saddened that Jeremiah didn’t understand me, that he didn’t grasp the nuances of the situation. I felt utterly alone in my in-laws’ house, isolated and unheard. Thinking of that, the tears finally came, hot and stinging. However, I mustn’t lose, I told myself, wiping my eyes.

After that, when the fever subsided, my mother-in-law again asked me to run errands for her, to perform more chores, to take on more responsibilities. I reduced my own workload even further, sacrificing my career, and complied as much as I could. In this way, I tried desperately to get back into the good graces of my parents-in-law, hoping that my obedience would eventually earn me their approval.

Chapter 5: The Five Hundred Dollar Verdict

One day, after this pattern of escalating demands had been firmly established, my mother-in-law suddenly asked me a question that marked the true beginning of the end.

“Audrey, how is your work going?” she inquired, her voice deceptively casual.

“Well, I’m continuing little by little,” I replied, trying to keep my tone neutral.

“Yes,” she hummed. “How much money do you earn now?” she continued, her eyes fixed on me with unnerving intensity.

“Huh? That’s none of your business, is it?” I answered sharply, a rare burst of defiance escaping me.

“It does matter,” she said, her grin widening. “Prices have been going up lately, and if you could just give me some money for living expenses…” she trailed off.

As far as I could tell, the electrician’s business had not suffered. Rather, as prices had risen, more people were looking for energy-efficient home appliances. Jobs such as air conditioner installation were even increasing. If anything, their income should have been increasing, not decreasing. However, my mother-in-law was hinting that she did not have enough money to make ends meet, that she needed my money.

Feeling a strange mixture of confusion and unease, and not wanting to reveal my true income for fear of even greater demands, I decided to tell her a smaller amount. “My income is also tight. I also have housework, so right now my monthly income is about five hundred dollars,” I said.

“What? Five hundred?” she wondered, her eyes widening.

“Yes, five hundred dollars a month is not so bad if you think of it as a part-time job,” I repeated.

My mother-in-law suddenly turned bright red. “Only five hundred? And you don’t even do much housework?” she uttered, her voice rising.

I think I do a fair amount of housework, I thought. I do all the cooking and cleaning these days. I even take care of the store and do the laundry when my mother-in-law is not around! The injustice burned within me.

As I was silently fuming, she declared, “Wait a minute. I’ll go talk to your father.” And with that, she spun on her heel and ran to my father-in-law.

A few minutes later, my mother-in-law returned, my father-in-law in tow. “Come with me,” she commanded.

“What? Where?” I questioned, my heart sinking.

“Your parents’ house,” she replied, her voice cold and final.

“I’m returning you,” my mother-in-law said.

After that, I was forcibly taken to my parents’ house, subjected to the humiliation of being “returned” in front of my father. In response, my father had simply said, “I’m going to close my own company.”

As I stood there, reeling, my mother-in-law smiled patronizingly. “You want to close your company? Do you mean your construction company? Is that what you’re talking about?”

“Yes, there is no other company for me,” my father responded with a thin, dangerous smile.

My father-in-law sighed. “You’re going to destroy the construction company and eliminate our electricians’ business, aren’t you? If that’s the case, what then?”

My dad replied, his voice firm. “I’m sorry, but we have other clients besides you.”

My father-in-law continued, “There are tons of electrician jobs out there.”

“Then it’s okay for me to take responsibility for my daughter and shut down my own construction company, isn’t it?” my father asked, looking directly into my father-in-law’s eyes.

“Suit yourself,” my father-in-law retorted. “It’s no use trying to coerce me into collapsing together!” In the end, he yelled these final, furious words and stormed away. My mother-in-law turned to me. “You useless wife. You don’t have to come back.”

I was left in a daze. “Is everything all right, Audrey?” my father asked, his hand gently on my shoulder.

“Um, what should I do, Dad?” I asked, feeling utterly lost.

“Wouldn’t it be better to get a divorce?” my dad uttered quietly.

“Yeah, I guess so,” I replied reluctantly. However, Jeremiah might come for me, I thought, clinging to that fragile hope. The most important thing is for Jeremiah to love me.

But Jeremiah did not come for me, no matter how long I waited. Days stretched into agonizing silence. After a few days, I finally received a message from Jeremiah. It contained only three devastating words: Let’s get divorced.

I wasn’t convinced. I kept sending messages to Jeremiah, desperate for an explanation, but he never responded. Then, Jeremiah’s lawyer called me. “Jeremiah’s parents have persuaded him to divorce you,” he informed me.

I could not say anything. I agreed to the divorce, accepting the alimony and other conditions that Jeremiah offered. Thus, my marriage, which had lasted less than a year, came to an abrupt and heartbreaking end.

Chapter 6: The Unraveling and the Reckoning

At the same time, my father’s construction company also closed its doors, just as he had promised. However, it did not stop completely. In fact, my brother, with my parents’ blessing and financial support, took over the construction company. The location and name remained the same, but he cut all ties with Jeremiah’s family business, severing the partnership that had once seemed so vital.

Naturally, this hit Jeremiah’s family’s business hard. Their primary contractor had vanished overnight. Still, they had other clients and managed somehow, struggling but not completely collapsing. But they weren’t safe, especially since the story of my “return” became a huge rumor around town. The community began to shun Jeremiah’s business. Gradually, Jeremiah’s family started to be avoided. More and more requests for electrical work were now made to the electricians’ company that my brother had quickly partnered with.

This continued until finally, rumors spread that Jeremiah’s business was going under, teetering on the brink of bankruptcy.

“This will teach him a lesson,” my father said one day. My mother and I thought so too.

But then, the wind suddenly changed. It was the summer of the following year. I was in my brother’s construction company office when we received a phone call. “Excuse me, the air conditioner seems to have broken down,” said a frantic voice, a client whose house my brother had recently remodeled.

When my brother went to check on it, he found something disturbing: the outdoor unit of the air conditioner had been deliberately broken, vandalized. “That’s terrible, even for a prank,” my brother muttered. He consulted with the family and immediately reported it to the police. My brother then contacted his new electrician partner and had the air conditioner replaced.

But this wasn’t the only case. The same thing happened again and again, a malicious pattern emerging. Another client called, then another. My brother’s construction company alone could not handle the sudden surge of damaged air conditioners. The affected people, desperate for repairs, reluctantly asked Jeremiah’s family for help.

“We are receiving more and more similar requests and the fee will be charged at a premium,” my ex-father-in-law announced, grinning. “Is that okay with you?” he asked one of the affected clients. “The number of people in need is increasing.”

It was unacceptable to charge more for repairs just because demand was rising, especially under such suspicious circumstances. I was furious, but I reminded myself it had nothing to do with me anymore. There was nothing I could do.

But my brother was different. “I’ll find the culprit,” he declared. He asked for the cooperation of several of his clients, those whose air conditioners had been mysteriously damaged.

I wondered what he was going to do. But what he did was very simple. He lent them an intercom for free.

“Why an intercom?” I asked, puzzled.

“Intercoms nowadays have a video recording function,” he explained. “Some even have sensors, so they can be used in place of security cameras.”

“I don’t think it will be that easy,” I said skeptically.

But within three days, the culprits were caught. Moreover, it was Jeremiah’s parents who were caught. They had broken into houses in the middle of the night and deliberately destroyed the air conditioners, creating work for themselves because they had lost clients. When questioned by the police, they confessed to such selfish motives.

I was reminded of the term “mutual collapse” that my ex-father-in-law had uttered with such venom. If my father quit the construction business, Jeremiah’s business would be in jeopardy. Perhaps he knew this and used the term deliberately. At any rate, the arrest of my former in-laws triggered the complete collapse of Jeremiah’s family’s electronics shop.

Apparently, Jeremiah has now started working at a demolition job site, trying to pay for the massive damages and legal fees his parents’ crimes had incurred. One of the electricians who worked at my brother’s construction company told me he saw him there. But honestly, I don’t care. I sympathize with him perhaps, but I don’t want to get involved anymore. My chapter with them is closed.

Besides, I’m happy now. I work as a graphic designer, and I also look after the store at my brother’s construction company. I can work at my own pace, my health no longer a constant source of guilt. And best of all, I don’t have nagging in-laws.

There is one small problem, though. My father is retired, and now that he has more free time, he has redirected all his protective energies towards me. He keeps asking, “Are you tired? Are you okay?” He’s always around, always talking to me.

“If you’re so bored, why don’t you get a job, too?” I teased him one day. “I think it’s cooler to have a working dad.”

As soon as I said that, my father, with a renewed sense of purpose, started working again at my brother’s construction company. It seems that my father truly loves me, perhaps even more now. But I love my father, too, so we are even. My life, once dictated by frailty and the cruel whims of others, is now truly my own.