"What do you mean?"
He shook his head.
"Your father-in-law speaks about Linda all the time. He worries about her. He asks whether she is healthy, whether your family is doing well, and whether you have enough money for your household."
I looked down.
Daniel continued.
"Actually, when he gave us the money, he said he wanted to make sure that the people around his daughter would have a little more security. He said that helping good people was one way of making the world kinder."
Those words stayed with me.
I suddenly remembered all the small gifts Robert had brought over the years.
The vegetables.
The eggs.
The homemade sauce.
The dried mushrooms.
And, most recently, the dried fish.
How many hours had he spent preparing those things?
How many times had he traveled to the city carrying heavy bags because he wanted to give his daughter something?
I had never asked.
I had never thanked him properly.
And now, hearing that he had helped another family with such generosity, I began to feel ashamed.
Daniel looked at me.
"Is something wrong?"
I forced a smile.
"No. Nothing."
But inside, I knew something had changed.
For the first time, I was beginning to understand how little I actually knew about my father-in-law.
Chapter 7: The Phone Call I Was Afraid to Make
That evening, Linda was preparing dinner when I approached her.
"Can I ask you something?"
She looked up.
"Of course."
"Did you know your father helped Daniel and Sarah buy their new car?"
She stopped cutting vegetables.
"Yes."
I was surprised.
"You knew?"
She nodded.
"My father told me a few weeks ago. He asked me not to tell many people because he didn't want them to feel uncomfortable."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Linda looked at me quietly.
"Because I knew you would probably question why he was giving money away when he didn't have much himself."
I had no answer.
She continued.
"My father has always been like that. He doesn't measure people by how much money they have. If someone is struggling and he can help, he tries."
I looked toward the kitchen counter.
"Did he ever send us money?"
Linda hesitated.
"Not directly. But he has helped us more times than you realize."
I turned toward her.
"What do you mean?"
She explained that Robert had occasionally paid small bills for us without mentioning it.
When we were short on money during a difficult month, he had quietly transferred some savings to Linda.
When our refrigerator broke, he had offered to cover part of the replacement cost.
When our son needed school supplies, Robert had sent money through his daughter.
He had never asked for repayment.
He had never wanted credit.
"He told me not to mention these things because he didn't want you to feel embarrassed," Linda said.
I felt a deep sense of shame.
I had believed that I was the person supporting the family.
I had assumed that Robert was someone who depended on us emotionally and occasionally needed our help.
But the truth was that he had been supporting us in quiet ways while asking for almost nothing in return.
I sat down.
"Linda, I think I owe your father an apology."
She looked at me for a long moment.
Then she said softly, "Yes. I think you do."
That night, I picked up my phone and called him.
It rang several times before he answered.
"Hello, son-in-law!"
His voice sounded cheerful.
I swallowed.
"Father, how are you?"
"I'm fine. How is Linda? Are the children doing well?"
"Everyone is fine."
There was a brief silence.
Then I said, "I heard about what you did for Daniel and Sarah."
He laughed gently.
"Ah, yes. They're good people. I hope the car helps them."
"Father, why didn't you tell us?"
"What was there to tell? They needed help, and I had some money available."
I struggled to find the right words.
Then I said something I should have said years earlier.
"Thank you for everything you've done for our family."
He became quiet.
After a few seconds, he replied:
"Don't mention it. You're family. We should help one another."
I closed my eyes.
I wanted to tell him about the dried fish.
I wanted to admit that I had thrown it away because I thought it was cheap and worthless.
But the words seemed too difficult to say.
Instead, I asked when he planned to visit us again.
"Soon," he replied. "I have something to bring for the grandchildren."
I already knew what he meant.
More food from his village.
And this time, I promised myself, I would receive it differently.
Chapter 8: The Secret Behind the Dried Fish
A week later, Robert arrived at our house.
He was carrying two bags.
One contained vegetables, while the other held another carefully wrapped package.
Linda hurried outside to greet him.
"Father! You should have called before coming."
Robert smiled.
"I wanted to surprise the children."
The children ran toward him.
He laughed and handed them small gifts he had brought from the village.
Then he placed the package on the kitchen table.
"These are some dried fish I prepared. They should be good with rice."
I looked at the package.
It was similar to the one I had thrown away.
But this time, I did not judge it by appearance.
I picked it up carefully.
"Thank you, Father. You must have worked very hard preparing these."
Robert smiled.
"It's nothing. I made them while the weather was good."
Linda glanced at me.
She seemed to notice the difference in my attitude.
I asked Robert to sit down while I prepared tea.
We talked for a while.
He asked about my work, the children's school, and Linda's health.
He never mentioned the money he had given Daniel.
He never asked whether we knew how much he had saved.
He never tried to make me feel guilty.
At one point, I asked him why he had decided to help our neighbors.
He looked toward the garden.
"Because I know what it feels like when life becomes difficult," he said.