I thought patience and kindness would eventually earn me a place in my husband’s family. Then one discovery made me realize I’d been playing a game I could never win.
Two dresses hung from my fingers, and neither one felt like enough armor for what was coming.
The navy one said I was trying too hard. The black one said I’d given up. I needed something that said, “I know exactly what you’ve been doing, Lori, and I brought receipts.”
“Maybe I should just wear chain mail,” I muttered to the mirror.
My cat, Biscuit, blinked at me from the bed, unimpressed.
“Maybe I should just wear chain mail.”
***
I hadn’t always talked to myself like a woman preparing for battle.
Three years ago, when I married Mason, I honestly believed I’d married into a wonderful family. My husband was kind and thoughtful, the man I wanted to be with forever, and I truly believed love would be enough to smooth over anything else.
For a little while, it really did feel that way.
Then came the comments.
Little ones at first, sprinkled between hugs and holiday photos.
I hadn’t always talked to myself.
Mason’s mother, Lori, never truly accepted me. No matter what I did, it was never good enough.
“Oh, Samantha, honey, we usually don’t put that much salt in the potatoes, but it’s fine.”
“That’s a bold color on you, sweetheart. Very bold.”
And her favorite, which she used now and then, always delivered with a soft, knowing smile:
“Some women are wives, and some are the love of a man’s life.”
It was never good enough.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out who she meant.
Cheryl. Mason’s ex-girlfriend.
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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