My In-Laws Helped Us Purchase This Home—Now They Treat Me Like I Belong to Them

I should have seen it sooner. Priya and Rajan hadn’t just contributed to the house—they came with it, like a very hands-on home warranty. They rearranged my kitchen “for better flow,” brought curtains they “knew would look nicer,” and installed a security system without asking, complete with a lecture on how “families look out for each other.” They dropped off groceries and restocked my fridge like pantry managers. When I asked for notice next time, Priya would smile and say, “You’re welcome.” Aarav insisted they meant well. I tried to believe him.

After the mail incident, belief was no longer an option. I started tracking their visits and leaving before they arrived. Let them play house with their son—I needed space.

Then my friend canceled brunch, and the universe sent me home at 1 p.m. to find Priya elbow-deep in my spice cabinet, tossing out jars while announcing expiration dates like a judge. Rajan sat at the table, tapping numbers into a spreadsheet I’d never seen. Aarav stood nearby, arms crossed, eyes down.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“We noticed expired items last time,” Priya said, as if she owned the place. “And

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