At first, it was the small things like Mike leaving his dirty laundry wherever he pleased or expecting me to handle the groceries. But then his parents, Maureen and Richard, began treating me like I had married into their family to become their unpaid chef and housekeeper.
Maureen would make sly comments whenever they visited.
Richard wasn’t much better. He was always “joking” about how I should consider opening a catering business since I was already “running one for free.” I tried to let it roll off my back, but their constant remarks and expectations were exhausting.
The worst, though, was a few weeks ago.
Maureen had called, announcing that she and Richard would be “dropping by for dinner.”
Dropping by, of course, meant staying for hours and criticizing my cooking.
When I suggested ordering takeout, Maureen gasped, “Takeout?
For family? Oh no, Alyssa. You’ve set the bar too high to lower it now.”
Meanwhile, Mike just shrugged and said, “You’ll figure it out.
You always do.”
I wanted to keep Mike happy.
But the love I had for him wore thinner with every passing day.
This brings us to Thanksgiving.
I knew it would be small because we’d just invited Mike’s parents and his two brothers. But even a small Thanksgiving meant a mountain of expectations for me.
Two days before the holiday, Mike decided to take his laziness to a new level.
We were sitting at the kitchen table, going over our budget. Money had been tight lately.
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