At 3 A.M., My Daughter Sent Me: “Mom, I Know You Paid 280 Thousand For This House… But My Mother In Law Doesn’t Want You At Christmas Dinner.” I Replied “Alright.” That Night I Stopped Over-Explaining Myself. Then I Made My Next Move. No One Was Prepared For WHAT HAPPENED AFTER THAT…

What a surprise.”

She didn’t get up to greet me. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Carol,” I said, walking in with my suitcase.

“Mom, you’re staying in your room, right?” Sarah asked nervously. “It’s just that Mrs. Carol is already settled in the guest room.”

I froze.

“The guest room?”

The room Sarah had told me was for me. “Sure, my love,” I said with that smile that was already starting to hurt. “No problem.”

I went up to my room.

But when I opened the door, I realized it was no longer empty like the last time. There were boxes piled against the wall, old clothes of David’s hanging in the closet, an exercise bike in one corner. My room had become a storage room.

I sat on the edge of the bed and took a deep breath. Don’t cry, Ellie. Don’t cry.

I went downstairs half an hour later with the cake in my hands. “I brought a layer cake,” I said, trying to sound cheerful. Mrs.

Carol wrinkled her nose. “Oh, what a shame, Mrs. Miller.

I brought a French lemon tart from a boutique bakery. We already put it in the refrigerator.”

David avoided my gaze. Sarah took the cake from my hands.

“Thanks, Mom. We’ll save it for tomorrow.”

But I knew they weren’t going to eat it. During dinner, Mrs.

Carol talked nonstop about her social club, her travels, how expensive everything was. Mr. Harold nodded at every one of his wife’s comments.

David laughed at the appropriate moments. Sarah served the food in silence. And I… I was there, sitting at the table I had bought, in the house I had paid for, feeling invisible.

At one point, Mrs. Carol pointed to the curtains in the living room. “Sarah, my dear, those curtains are too plain.

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