**Diary Entry 6th May**
Tonight, I lay in bed replaying that dreadful eveningthe night my mother-in-law tried to humiliate me in front of everyone. But fate, or rather my brother, had other plans.
Harriet Whitmore, my now ex-mother-in-law, took the microphone at our wedding reception, beaming like a polished silver teapot. The ballroom fell silent in anticipation.
*”Id like to say a few words about our new daughter-in-law,”* she began, her voice dripping with false sweetness as she stared straight at me.
My husband, Oliver, squeezed my hand under the table. He hadnt sensed the trap yet. But I had. A shiver ran down my spinenot a chill, but the sharp sting of betrayal.
*”To be a true family, we must have no secrets, mustnt we?”*
She snapped her fingers, and the lights dimmed. The projector behind us, which had been displaying slides of Oliver and me, flickered to life again.
There I waseighteen, at a house party, hair dishevelled, eyes half-lidded. The photo was cropped to make it look like I was lying in bed with some unknown bloke. Without my dress.
A gasp rippled through the room.
I remembered that night well. My best mate had alcohol poisoning, and Id stayed up nursing her. Then Id fallen ill myself. The photo had been taken by my ex, who later blackmailed me with them. Id paid him to disappear and delete everything. But how had *she* gotten them? The answer was sickeningly clearshed *hunted* for them. Dug through old social media accounts, paid for the dirt.
*”Our sweet Eleanor has always been a fiery one,”* Harriet continued, feigning benevolence. *”Were modern peoplewe understand.”*
Another slide. Me in a short dress at a birthday party, the angle deliberately lewd. Humiliation wasnt burningit was ice-cold.
Olivers face was torn between confusion and shock. My parents sat frozen. But my brother, Daniel, wasnt looking at the screen. He was watching Harriet, his gaze not angry but calculatinglike a predator assessing its prey.
*”What matters is shes sensible now,”* Harriet purred, pausing for the guests to *”appreciate”* the next photo. *”And we welcome her into the family. As she is.”*
Her husband, Olivers father, looked mortified but said nothing. Hed always been under her thumb.
Thats when I realisedthis battle hadnt started tonight. It had been raging for years. Id just been too naive to see it. Her snide remarks, her *”friendly advice,”* her constant comparisons to Olivers exall of it was leading to this.
And shed struck on the most important day of my life, in front of everyone I loved.
Harriet finished her *”touching”* speech to half-hearted applause, sitting down like a queen victorious. I sat numb, feeling hundreds of eyes judging me.
Then I saw Daniel pull out his phone, typing swiftly. He caught my eye and gave a barely perceptible nod.
The screen flickered againback to photos of Oliver and me. The music swelled, failing to ease the tension.
Oliver turned to me, pale and bewildered. *”Ellie what was that? Whose photos are those?”*
*”Theyre old, Oliver. My ex-friends brother took themhe”*
Before I could finish, Harriet swooped in, her voice sticky with faux sympathy. *”Now, now, darlings, no squabbling. I said the past doesnt matter. Honesty is what counts.”*
Her words were poison wrapped in honey.
I met her eyes. *”Why did you do this?”*
She feigned innocence. *”Why? So thered be no secrets. So my son knows who he married. Isnt that care?”*
Oliver tried to mediate*”Mum, really, did it have to be in front of everyone?”*but the damage was done.
Then Daniel handed his phone to the DJ. The music cut.
*”Ladies and gents, another surprise!”* the MC announced, smirking. *”The brides brother has a special gift!”*
Harriet preened, expecting praise.
The lights dimmed.
A shaky, pixelated video playedHarriet at a company Christmas party, drunk, clutching a glass of champagne. She was flirting shamelessly with a young IT bloke, whispering loud enough for the camera to catch:
*”My husbands a dull old stick. But me? I crave adventure.”*
The room erupted in stifled laughter.
Harriet turned chalk-white. Her husband stood abruptly, his chair clattering.
Daniel took the mic. *”Harriet, youre right. No secrets in a family. We accept each otheras we are.”*
The silence was deafening.
Olivers father spoke first, cold and firm. *”Were leaving.”*
Harriet shrieked protests, but he walked out. She scrambled after him. The queen had fallen.
Oliver turned to me, pleading. *”Ellie, I didnt know shed do this. But your brother was that necessary?”*
Thats when I understoodhed never get it.
I slipped off my ring, placing it on the pristine tablecloth.
*”Your mother wanted no secrets. Heres one: I thought I was marrying a man whod stand by me. Turns out I married his mothers shadow.”*
I stood, hugged my family, and walked outpast hundreds of eyes now filled with respect.
I didnt look back.
**Two Years Later**
I paint now. My studios small but mine. My art sellsnot enough to be rich, but enough to breathe.
Oliver called today. His voice was differentharder.
*”Dad filed for divorce the day after. Mums alone now. Her reputations ruined.”*
I almost pitied her. Almost.
*”I get it now, Ellie,”* he said. *”I spent my life pleasing everyone and ended up no one. Im sorry.”*
*”I forgave you years ago,”* I said, and meant it.
Daniel visited tonight, bringing my favourite biscuits. *”That video wasnt luck,”* he admitted. *”The IT bloke was my old colleague. He sent it to mejust in case.”*
I smiled. *”My hero.”*
*”No,”* he said. *”Heroes walk away. I just opened the door.”*
He was right. That night, I didnt leave Oliver or Harriet. I left the old methe one who feared conflict, endured humiliation, waited for rescue.
That Eleanor stayed at the wedding table.
I moved on. And Ive never looked back.
