My mother-in-law suggested we move in with her and rent out our flat. With little choice, we agreed. While my husband was home, everyone treated me kindly, but the moment he left, everything changed. I was instantly put “in my place,” not even allowed near the fridge.
I often cried to my husband, trying to explain, but he wouldnt believe me. He insisted his mother and sister would never act that way. He was especially doubtful when I told him they smeared sticky stuff on my hairbrush. I dont know how much longer I could have endured if not for what happened next.
Normally, wed leave together in the morninghim for work, me to drop the kids at nursery. But that day, Oliver wasnt feeling well and stayed home. I popped out for groceries and, upon returning, ran into Mark, my sister-in-law Emilys boyfriend, in the hallway.
“Oi, you! Fetch some beer, quick!”
“Are you mad?” I asked, stunned.
“What, deaf? I said hurry up! Need me to repeat it?”
My mother-in-law stepped out of the kitchen.
“About time! Let her do something useful, that layabout! And take the bins out while shes at it!”
Just then, our bedroom door swung open, and Oliver appeared. A thick silence fell. My mother-in-law scurried back to the kitchen, while my husband marched up to Mark, grabbed him by the collar, and shoved him down the stairs, shouting hed better never show his face here again.
Emily opened her mouth to argue but just shrugged. My mother-in-law tried to pick a fight, but Oliver cut her off mid-sentence. He called the tenants straight away, informing them their lease wouldnt be renewed. Then he turned to his mother and sister and said firmly,
**”If either of you utter one more insult toward my wife before the months end, consider yourself without a son.”**
A month later, we moved back into our flat. But the nightmare haunted me for ages. His parents disowned Oliver, but he couldnt have cared less. He swore hed never see or speak to them again.
