All I wanted was a peaceful honeymoon—two weeks of quiet, connection, and time with my new husband. Instead, on the second morning, I opened the door expecting room service… and found my mother-in-law standing there with a suitcase.
“I came to relax with you and Brian!” she smiled, already walking in.
From that moment on, she followed us everywhere—breakfast, the pool, dinner—always with opinions about my food, my clothes, even my tattoos. Brian promised she’d leave soon. But when Thursday came, she suddenly “injured” her leg while heading to the airport and insisted she needed to stay.
Soon, our honeymoon turned into caregiving. She rang a bell for everything, criticized me constantly, and even dug through my personal belongings. When I suggested seeing a doctor, she refused.
So I called the hotel nurse myself.
When asked to stand, she got up easily—no pain, no hesitation. The staff quickly realized something wasn’t right, and the act began to crumble.
Back home, she kept up the lie until one night she forgot which leg was “injured” in front of family. That was enough.
Brian finally stepped in and booked her a ticket to stay with his aunt.
As her cab drove away, I packed my silk nightgown again.
This time, we went somewhere quiet—just the two of us. And finally, I could breathe.
