My mother-in-law despised me from the moment we met and spent years trying to ruin my life. But when she was on her deathbed, she handed me a motel key and a note that simply read ‘I’m sorry.’ I had no idea what I would find behind that door—or how it would change everything.
Do you know what it feels like to be unwelcome in your own family? I do. All too well. First, my dad won full custody over my mom and forbade her from seeing me.
And even when I turned eighteen, my mom did not even try to contact me. At her funeral, I saw her for the first time as an adult.
My dad never needed me. He only took me to hurt my mom. And the moment I turned eighteen, he waved goodbye and told me I no longer had to come home. All my life, I felt alone. Until I met Rob, my husband.
Rob became my best friend, my partner, and my lover. The person who proved to me that there was nothing wrong with me. That I deserved love. We met at the very first college party and had not been apart since.
Rob was the one source of support I had never had, and I tried to be the same for him. But nothing in life is perfect, right? There is always a catch. And the catch was Rob’s mom, Carla.
This woman hated me from the very first moment we met. And although years had passed, I still had no idea why.
No matter how many times I asked Carla what was wrong, no matter how often I tried to fix things or find a compromise, she did everything in her power to make my life miserable.
She always wanted Rob to see me in a bad light. She kept picking fights and never let us live in peace. I begged Rob to cut ties with her, but he said that was not an option. She was family, after all.
One evening, Rob came home looking heartbroken. He silently sank into the couch.
“Is everything alright?” I asked.
“No,” Rob murmured. “Mom is very sick,” he whispered.
I sat beside him and took his hand. “What happened?” I asked gently.
Rob shrugged and wiped away a tear. “She said she only has a few months left. Maybe less.”
“Oh God… Is there anything they can do?” I asked.
“No,” he replied.
And I guess he couldn’t hold back anymore—he hugged me and started crying. I stroked his back, not knowing what else to do.
While I didn’t love Carla, I was not a monster. I felt sorry for her—and even more for Rob.
The next day, we both took time off work and drove to Carla’s place to support her. She lay in bed, frail and pale, struggling to breathe, barely able to speak.
