My Husband Said His Mom Deserved the Front Seat More than Me – I Taught Him a Lesson

I stood there for a moment, waiting for Harry to realize what he was saying. Waiting for him to see me.

He didn’t.

When I finally worked up the courage to bring it up properly, he sighed as if I was being dramatic.

“But it’s my car. My grandmother left me that money…”

“And I’m the one who knows how to drive it,” Harry interrupted.

“What do you want me to do, let it sit in the garage while you take the bus? That doesn’t make sense.”

I felt tears building but refused to let them fall in front of him. “It just feels like…”

“Like what?

Like I’m taking care of my mother? The woman who raised me?”

I swallowed the hurt that was building in my throat and didn’t bring it up again.

But the humiliation didn’t stop there.

The worst part came on a Saturday afternoon.

We were all heading out together, and I walked toward the passenger side, more out of habit than hope. Still, a tiny part of me thought… maybe this time.

Harry got there first and opened the front door.

I stepped forward.

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