I’ve been married to Richard for three years. We have happy life in the suburbs, successful careers, and a solid relationship.
Well, except for one tiny detail that’s been driving me up the wall.
Monica puts on this sweet act whenever we’re face to face. She’ll hug me and call me “sweetheart” and “darling,” but behind the scenes?
That’s where the real show begins.
I remember this one time when Richard and I were hosting a family BBQ. I was preparing the salads in the kitchen when I overheard her talking to Richard’s cousin in the living room.
Monica is one of those people who always find something to criticize.
Everything was going well until Monica showed up with her own “backup pie.” Why? Because she “wasn’t sure if everyone would like MY cooking!”
But the worst example?
That would be the time she cornered Richard in the garage during our housewarming party.
“Richard, honey,” she was saying,
“I’m just concerned. Katie seems nice, but don’t you think you rushed into this marriage? Sarah from church has a lovely daughter who’s just finished medical school.
She always asks about you, you know. Such a shame you never gave her a chance.”
Richard shut that down immediately. “Mom, I love Katie.
Please stop trying to set me up with other women. I’m married!”
These incidents were annoying, sure, but I could handle them. What I couldn’t handle, though, was her absolute obsession with getting into our bedroom.
I still can’t figure out what she was hoping to find.
Whatever it was, she was determined to find it.
It began three months ago when Monica excused herself to use the bathroom during a dinner party.
We have a neat guest bathroom right next to the living room downstairs. But no. She just had to use the one in our master bedroom upstairs.
“Oh, I just prefer more private bathrooms,” she’d said when Richard questioned her choice.
“You never know who’s used these guest bathrooms.”
I thought it was odd but didn’t say anything.
I waited a few minutes after she went upstairs, then quietly followed her.
“Monica? What are you doing in here?”
“Oh! Katie!” she turned around, looking at me with wide eyes.
“I was just looking for the bathroom.”
“The bathroom’s through that door,” I said pointedly.
“The one you haven’t gone near since you came up here.”
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