The old woman slumped in her wheelchair, her skeletal hands gripping the armrests like an aged eagle backed to the cliff’s edge. Her eyes were fixed on the two men in the center of the living room. “Poor?” The son-in-law sneered, his tailored suit crisp, gold watch glinting under the light with a sharp, cold gleam. “You don’t even know the price of my shoe leather—what right do you have to talk about money?” Her son stood at the other end of the worn carpet, nails digging into his palms. Unemployed for three months, the medical bill for his daughter still burned in his pocket. “I’m not afraid of being poor,” he said, voice low but steady. “But I despise those who dress like decent men while rotting from the inside out.” The mother suddenly coughed—again and again, as if trying to tear her lungs apart. She tried to speak, but the rising fury between the two men drowned her voice. “You’re not rich?” Her son slammed open the ledger on the coffee table. “Then tell me—why have you been taking high-interest loans to pay the mortgage? That Porsche you drive—is it even yours? Do you really split the twenty-rupee parking fee with my wife?” The son-in-law’s face twisted. He stepped back—only to catch his heel on the edge of the rug. “Bang!” He crashed hard onto the floor, arm knocking over a vase. Shards scattered across the tiles. Silence swallowed the room. The mother shuddered, a choked sob rising in her throat. “A-Zhe… are you alright?” The man clutched his arm, struggling to rise, lips twitching—then laughed. “Mom… don’t worry about me. Your son-in-law… was never worth that much to begin with.” Her son didn’t move. His gaze was ice. “Did you hear that, Mom? He’s not poor. He’s hollow—pretending to be rich until there’s nothing left inside.” Late into the night. At a dimly lit bar on the city’s outskirts, neon lights flickered yellow. The wife stared at the amber liquid in her husband’s glass. “So when the company collapsed… that’s when you decided to lie? To lie to me? To my mother? To all of us?” He kept his head down, fingers tracing the band of his wedding ring. “I didn’t want to see disappointment in your eyes… or another tear fall from hers.” “But look at us now,” her voice trembled. “You’ve made our lives a joke.” He finally looked up, eyes bloodshot. “I know… I’m no billionaire. But I’m your husband. I’m her son-in-law. Even if I have nothing, I wanted—needed—to hold this family together.” Outside, rain poured down like tears. Back in the darkened living room, the mother sat alone, clutching the bank notice she’d stolen from her son-in-law’s office. Her knuckles were white. Tears slipped silently down her cheeks. She whispered, “My children… who among you is truly more broken?” The doorbell rang. She didn’t stir. Beyond the door stood two figures side by side—one disheveled, one weary. No words were spoken. Only the wind swept through the hallway, lifting one corner of the family photo resting on her lap. In the picture, three people smiled, pretending time was kind. But the cracks had already formed. Whether they could be mended—no one knew.