My step mom

Seven days after my father passed away, my stepmother, with whom he had lived for 26 years, disappeared without a trace.

My phone rang, ringing with relatives urging me to come home quickly! Don't let your stepmother take everything of value!

I could only manage a bitter smile.

Home? What valuables were left?

You all underestimated her.

My stepmother came to live with my father when she was 38.

My father was 45 then, and I was still in elementary school.

She was so good to me; I really loved her.

Her life was so hard.

At 27, her husband died in a car accident.

The following year, her 6-year-old son tragically drowned.

Neighbors gossiped and pointed fingers.

No one truly understood how much she had endured alone.

She carried on alone for 11 years.

Until she was 38, she met my father.

They never registered their marriage, but they lived together like that for 26 years.

For those 26 years, she kept our home impeccably organized.

She took impeccable care of my father's health.

I work in Singapore, living in an old HDB estate.

Every time I went back to my hometown, she was always busy taking care of everything.

She would cook a huge table of my favorite dishes, stuffed with vegetables she grew herself.

Especially after my father fell ill.

She handled everything in the hospital by herself.

She cleaned him up, fed him, and tended to his bodily needs.

She never complained once.

Honestly, I couldn't have done that.

Do you think a woman like that would,

covet the meager possessions in the house after my father passed away?

The day before my father died.

He secretly called me to his bedside, dismissing my stepmother.

He whispered, "The house and the 50,000 Singapore dollars in the savings account are all yours."

I had already written my will. I nodded in agreement, but my heart felt like it was being pricked by needles.

I felt sorry for my stepmother and thought my father was too heartless.

Twenty-six years of companionship—was it all worth less than a will?

After handling my father's funeral arrangements,

I was overwhelmed with urgent matters at work.

I quickly said goodbye to my stepmother and rushed back to Singapore.

At that time, I didn't even notice.

She was already silently packing her bags.

It wasn't until a relative called that I realized.

She was gone.

I couldn't reach her by phone, and she didn't reply to messages.

I rushed back to my old house in my hometown.

The front door was locked, and the house was spotless.

The stove was gleaming, and even my room was tidied up.

A neighbor said, "A few days ago, she walked away carrying two old bags, head down."

My heart clenched, and my eyes instantly welled up with tears.

I inquired through neighbors who knew her well.

I finally learned she had returned to her hometown in Johor, Malaysia.

A dilapidated country courtyard, just as it had been when she left.

I pushed open the gate and saw her standing alone in the yard, lost in thought.

The wind blew through her white hair; her loneliness was heartbreaking.

I called out, "Mom!" She jumped, turning her head with a panicked look in her eyes.

She hurriedly explained, "I only took my own things; I didn't touch anything in the house."

"If you're worried, go back and check now..."

I couldn't hold back any longer and went over to take her hand.

I placed the bankbook in her palm:

"Mom, I'm sorry, I've been so busy these past few days."

"This 50,000 is the retirement money Dad left for you."

"The house is yours too; I'll take you to complete the transfer in the next few days."

She froze, her eyes instantly reddening.

She shook her head and pushed the bankbook back:

"Your father and I weren't registered, I can't take this."

My tears instantly streamed down my face:

"You took care of Dad for 26 years, you took care of this family for 26 years."

"If you don't treat me like a mother, who will I go back to when I go back to my parents' home?"

She finally broke down.

Tears streamed down her face like a broken string of pearls, and she choked out:

"I thought... after your father passed away, you would kick me out."

"I never expected that he would have arranged everything for me..."

"Spending my life with your father was worth it."

I hugged her tightly, tears streaming down my face:

"Mom, come back with me, let's live together."

She sobbed uncontrollably and nodded.

But in the end, she still didn't accept the bankbook.

Wiping away her tears, she smiled and said,

"I can still move, I can go to work and earn some pocket money."

"Take the money, I'll live in the house, and give it back to you after I'm gone."

"Transferring ownership is too much trouble, I'll just stay in this old house and keep your dad company."

"If you want to come back, you still have a home."

Now I understand.

Some feelings never need a marriage certificate to prove them.

26 years of companionship, 26 years of dedication.

The warmth she gave me was more than that of a biological mother.

Taking care of her in her old age is my responsibility.

It's also the best way to honor our "mother-daughter" bond.