From day one, my mother-in-law treated me like an outsider in my own home. She mocked my cooking, criticized my appearance, and once even threw away a necklace my late mother had given me. When I told my husband, he dismissed it, saying, “She didn’t know.”
She barged into our room without knocking, whispered things to my husband, and slowly pushed me out of every decision. I asked him to set boundaries, but he said, “She’s just trying to help.”
The final straw came when she asked to move in, and he agreed without even asking me. I said, “It’s her or me.” He said nothing. Just sat there. So, I left. I packed my things, took what was mine, including the only soul in that house who truly showed me love—our dog.
I thought I was done. But a week later, something felt off. I took a test, and there they were: two pink lines. I was pregnant. Now I’m sitting here with a decision I never expected. Does he deserve to know? Or do I stay gone for good?
