Last year was the hardest of my life. After losing my job, my husband and I couldnt afford the rent on our flat. He was covering all the expenses, but soon it became clear we needed help. So we had to move in with my mother-in-law. For me, it was humiliating, but there was no choice.
From the start, living under her roof was a nightmare. Nothing I did was good enoughmy cooking, cleaning, even the way I spoke. And every time I dared to argue, shed throw the same words at me:
*”If you dont like it, pack your bags and leave.”*
I bit my tongue, but the anger inside grew. Then came the day my patience finally snapped.
It was my mother-in-laws birthday. She insisted I cook dinnerwanted to show off how well her daughter-in-law could host. I swallowed my pride, bought fresh ingredients, and spent all day in the kitchen making spaghetti bolognese.
When her friends arrived, everything seemed fine at first. They smiled, laughed, praised the food. For a moment, I thought maybe Id misjudged them. But the moment I stepped into the kitchen, I overheard their whispers.
What I heard sent me storming back into the dining room. I grabbed a plate of spaghetti and dumped it straight onto her head. She burst into tears instantly, while her friends only laughed harder.
I glared at them and shouted, *”Thats what you deserve, you miserable cow! And as for you lotif youre not here to scrape pasta off her head, get out of my house!”*
They fell silent, eyes down, and scurried out without another word.
Now for what they actually saidand why I snapped. Read on in the first comment below.
I heard my mother-in-law hiss, *”Wont be long now. Ive made her life hell already, and the rest of my plan will fall into place.”*
One of her friends chimed in, *”My daughter still fancies your son. Shes waiting for him to leave this one. Dont worryhell forget her quick enough.”*
Another smirked, *”But what if she gets pregnant? Hed never walk away then. Whats your plan for that?”*
But the worst came from my mother-in-law herself: *”No chance of that. Ive been slipping her birth control pillscrushed up in her tea. My son wont waste his life on some useless girl.”*
Those words hit harder than a slap. Thats when I grabbed the plate.
The next day, my husband and I packed our things and left. We havent spoken to her since.
