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My MIL still called me “sweetheart.” Still hugged me. Still told everyone, “She’s exactly what Andrew needed.”
I liked feeling chosen.
We were at their place for dinner.
I was talking about a big project at work, tired but excited. I poured myself some water. Andrew’s mom watched me and smiled.
“Oh, honey,” she said.
“You work so much. Andrew needs a wife who’s present, not a woman who’s always chasing something.”
I laughed like it was a joke.
Another time, she said, “Careers are nice, sweetheart, but marriages don’t survive on emails.”
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