My husband forced me to give my kidney to his mother, saying: “Prove that you love me, this is all for the family.” I agreed, but immediately after the operation he filed for divorce and left with another woman 

But my husband had no idea that my kidney, in fact… 

It all started on an ordinary evening when my husband suddenly began talking about his mother. He was strangely calm, even cold. He said her condition had worsened sharply and that the doctors had found a solution — a kidney transplant.

He circled around the topic for a long time and then said it bluntly:

— You have to give her your kidney. If you love me, prove it.

Those words didn’t sound like a request, but like an order. The air in the room immediately felt heavy. I was waiting for support, gratitude, at least a hint of doubt… but there was only expectation in his eyes. As if he had already been sure that I would agree.

I agreed. Not because I wanted to be a heroine. I simply believed that family means making sacrifices for one another. I thought that after this he would become closer to me, that everything would change, that we would truly become a family.

I signed the papers, went through the examinations, and was admitted to the hospital. The operation lasted a long time. I remember the bright light of the lamps, the calm voices of the doctors, and the thought that now everything would definitely be fine.

When I woke up, it hurt. My body wouldn’t obey me; everything inside was pulling and burning. But I endured it. I knew who I had gone through all of this for.

For two days I lay in the room waiting. My husband called and said he would come soon. I imagined him taking my hand and saying thank you.

On the third day, the door to the room opened.

He didn’t come in alone.

Beside him walked a woman in a bright red dress. Confident, well-groomed. She looked stunning.

That woman looked at me with a satisfied smile, with curiosity, as if she had come to observe someone else’s pain.

My husband came closer without looking me in the eyes. Silently, he took a folder out of his pocket and threw it onto the bed.

— Sign it, he said calmly.

They were the divorce papers.

At that moment I understood: everything had been decided in advance. I was only needed as a donor. As a temporary solution to someone else’s problem.

But he didn’t know the most important thing. He had no idea that my kidney, in fact…  Continued in the first comment 

…that the kidney was transplanted, it took, but…

The operation was successful. The doctors spoke cautiously. My mother-in-law’s body accepted the donor organ, the tests were stable, the indicators were improving. My husband walked down the corridor with the look of a winner, as if everything had finally gone exactly according to his plan.

But the miracle did not happen.

My mother-in-law never got out of bed again. Her legs wouldn’t obey her, her strength didn’t return, every movement was painful. She could sit, she could speak, she could eat — but she could no longer live the way she used to.

Now she needed constant care. Medications on schedule, injections, night watches, help with the simplest things. And all of this care fell on the shoulders of that very woman in the red dress.

At first, the mistress held on. She tried, smiled at the doctors, pretended that everything was under control. But the hospital quickly washed away her shine and confidence.

The red dresses were replaced by house robes, sleepless nights by irritation, and pretty words by silence.

Six months passed.

The mistress left, leaving a note saying she was not ready for such a life. That she wanted love, freedom, and a future — not someone else’s illness and endless care.

My husband was left alone. With a sick mother and an empty apartment.