It started as a simple routine—my wife’s monthly “girls-only dinners.” She’d dress up, meet her friends, and I’d stay home. I never questioned it, until one evening I received a text from my mother-in-law: “I know you don’t care about family dinners, but your wife’s little brother drew this for you.”
The picture was of her at a big family dinner—a tradition she’d always said wasn’t important to her. I was confused and upset. She’d never mentioned this, and yet here she was, at a large family gathering.
When she came home, her story didn’t add up. She claimed they’d eaten Italian food, but the photo showed a family dinner. I called my mother-in-law for answers, and learned that my wife had told them I didn’t want to attend family events. She’d made me the villain to get attention from her family, who had always favored her brothers.
The next time, I followed her to her parents’ house and confronted her at the dinner table. Outside, she broke down, explaining that she’d lied to make herself feel important after years of being overlooked. She admitted it was wrong but wanted to feel loved.
I was heartbroken. She’d betrayed my trust, but in her tears, I saw her vulnerability. She was desperate for attention, even if it meant tearing us apart.