I returned from my trip and found my bed missing. My daughter-in-law smiled and said, “Mother-in-law, we redecorated everything. This room is mine now.” I stayed calm and replied, “You want your own space?
Perfect. You’ll start looking for a new place to live today.” Her face instantly lost all color.
I came back from my trip, and when I walked into my bedroom, I couldn’t find my bed. My daughter-in-law appeared smiling and said, “We redecorated everything.
This room is mine now.” I kept my cool, looked her straight in the eye, and replied, “You want a space all to yourself? Perfect. You can start looking for a new house to live in today.” Just like that, the color drained from her face.
When I opened the door to my house after being away for 15 days, the first thing I felt was that something was wrong.
The air smelled different—like fresh paint and expensive perfume that wasn’t mine. I left my suitcase at the entrance and walked slowly down the hall, my heart starting to beat faster, as if my body knew something my mind didn’t want to accept yet.
My feet took me straight to my room. The door was ajar.
I pushed it open with a trembling hand, and that’s when my world stopped.
My bed was gone.
That mahogany bed where I had slept for 25 years—where I had cried over my husband’s death, where I had sewn my children’s clothes in the early mornings—it had vanished. In its place was a modern white bed with decorative pillows that looked like they were straight out of a magazine. The walls I had painted a soft peach color were now a light gray.
My photographs—the photos from my wedding, of my young children, of my husband with his warm smile—were no longer hanging on the walls.
I felt the floor move beneath my feet.
“Do you like how it turned out, Mother-in-law?”
The voice came from behind me, sweet as poisoned honey.
I turned around slowly.
There was Valerie, my daughter-in-law, leaning against the doorframe with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She was wearing a tight wine-colored dress, her hair freshly styled, her nails perfectly manicured. She looked victorious.
“What did you do?” My voice came out weaker than I wanted.
“We redecorated.
The house needed a change, you know—something more modern, more functional.” She walked closer and ran her hand along the gray wall. “And well, this room is perfect for me. It has better light, more space.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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