Ever since I married into my husband’s family, his sister Hanh looked down on me. I grew up in the countryside with farmer parents and built my life from nothing. After graduating, I worked hard in interior design and eventually founded my own company. But because I live simply, my husband’s family assumed I was poor and “lucky” to marry into wealth. Hanh, especially, never let me forget it.
Before her wedding, the family planned to visit the groom’s house. My mother-in-law happily told me to dress nicely, but Hanh immediately stopped her. She crossed her arms and sneered that I shouldn’t go because my “poor background” would embarrass her in front of her wealthy in-laws. My husband defended me, but she insisted I stay home so she wouldn’t “lose face.”
I stayed quiet, as always. I never needed to prove myself. The next day, however, my husband insisted I join them, regardless of Hanh’s attitude. When we arrived, the groom’s family welcomed us warmly. Then the groom himself came out—confident, smiling—until he saw me.
The moment his eyes landed on me, everything changed. He froze, then quickly bowed his head and addressed me respectfully by my professional title: “Director.” His family looked shocked, whispering nervously. Hanh turned pale, realizing the “poor girl” she insulted was actually the successful director of a design firm—someone her groom already knew and feared disappointing. I didn’t say a word. I just smiled.
