Me and my mother-in-law never got along since we met, something that I tried to change but to no avail.
Then she suddenly changed and started being suspiciously nice to me, only for me to discover that she had a valid reason to do so.
For three years, Cynthia treated me like an intruder in her son’s life. Every holiday was a minefield.
Her passive-aggressive insults were wrapped in a thin layer of politeness, just enough for plausible deniability. Then one day her demeanor changed toward me, and when I discovered why, I was livid.
I always knew that my mother-in-law (MIL), Cynthia, hated me.
It wasn’t something she said outright, but she didn’t have to. It was all evident in her behavior, the fake smiles, and the snide comments she gave me.
“Oh, Susan, I see you’re still wearing your hair like that. Brave choice,” she’d say.
At our wedding?
She wore white. A lacy, floor-length gown that could have easily been mistaken for a bridal dress. She floated around the reception like a ghostly shadow, smiling sweetly as she introduced herself to my relatives as “the real Mrs.
Williams.”
My MIL also insisted on having my husband, Dave’s ex-girlfriend, invited to our wedding as a guest, leaving no mystery as to how she felt about me. During my pregnancy? She casually suggested to Dave, “You know, it wouldn’t hurt to get a DNA test, just to be certain.” I overheard it.
Her voice had that sugary tone that made it sound almost like a joke.
Almost. And every holiday after that? I was mysteriously “forgotten” from the guest list.
Dave would get a last-minute call. “Oh, it must have slipped my mind to invite Susan. You should still come, though!”
My husband, ever the peacemaker, never stood up to her.
“That’s just how she is, babe.
Don’t take it personally,” he told me.
It was obvious to me that she didn’t believe I was good enough for her son and never would be.
So, I stopped trying or caring and accepted we’d never be close. I stopped forcing smiles, stopped initiating conversations, and stopped expecting her to like me. If she wanted to act like I didn’t exist, fine.
I could play along.
Then, one day, she changed.
It was so sudden that I was sure it was a trick. Out of nowhere, Cynthia was nice. Not just polite—nice!
Out of the blue, she started calling me just to chat. At first, I thought she dialed my number by accident! I mean, what would you have thought?!
But no, she genuinely wanted to talk.
She even started calling me “sweetie,” an endearment that always took me by surprise. She also complimented my cooking. Once, when she came over, she said, “Susan, sweetie, that shade of blue really brings out your eyes.” I nearly dropped the casserole dish!
I didn’t know how to respond, so I just muttered, “Uh, thanks… Cynthia.”
She even began offering to help with chores whenever she visited!
She’d stand next to me, drying dishes, talking about mundane things like the weather or her favorite soap operas. It was so ordinary that it felt unnatural! And honestly, it was very unsettling!
Then came the unexpected and absolutely unnecessary gifts!
The first was a silk scarf, delicate and expensive-looking! I stared at it, still in its pristine box, suspiciously. She handed it to me with a smile!
A smile!
“I saw this and thought of you. It’s your color,” she claimed.
I thanked her, reluctant to take the scarf, still waiting for the catch.
A week later, I made an offhand comment about a handbag I had seen online. It was gorgeous but wildly out of my budget.
The next day, she showed up at our doorstep, holding that exact handbag!
“I remembered you mentioned this,” she said, her eyes sparkling with a warmth I didn’t trust. “Thought you deserved a little treat.”
I didn’t know what to say! I just stood there, dumbfounded!
This was the same woman who had questioned my character, my marriage, and even the paternity of my child!
Who was this woman standing in front of me?
I tried to rationalize it because I was definitely suspicious. Maybe she was just getting older and softer. Maybe becoming a grandmother had changed her perspective.
Maybe she was finally accepting me. Maybe I was finally enough.
But I should’ve trusted my gut because when I finally found out why she was being so nice I realized I was so wrong it nearly destroyed me!
Without prior warning, she decided we were now “close enough” to go out together. Alone.
And in public! One evening she invited me out for coffee. Yes, just me!
I hesitated but agreed, more out of curiosity than anything else.
When I arrived at the café, I expected nothing but small talk and forced politeness. But, instead, she was already there smiling and waiting with two cups of steaming cappuccino to warm us up.
She stood up and hugged me—a full embrace! It was startlingly warm!
I must have tensed up because she’d never wanted alone time with me before, let alone affectionate body contact!
“Susan, I’m so glad you came,” she said, her eyes slightly red-rimmed. I wondered if she had been crying.
“Of course,” I replied, cautiously taking my seat. “You said it was important?”
She reached across the table, gripping my hands with a desperation that made my stomach twist and gave me the most intense stare.
Her hands were cold, her fingers trembling slightly.
“Susan… I need a favor.”
I felt a jolt of anxiety. “Sure?”
She took a deep breath, her eyes locking onto mine. Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“I need one of your kidneys.”
My mind went blank! I blinked, waiting for her to laugh, to say it was a joke—a really, really bad joke! But she didn’t.
“I—what?”
She squeezed my hands tighter.
“I have kidney disease. It’s getting worse. The doctors say I need a transplant soon, and… well, family is the best match.”
My body went cold.
Family.
The word echoed in my mind, bitter and sharp.
This woman, who had treated me like a parasite for years, now wanted my organ because we were family?!
I stared at her, my voice coming out in a shaky whisper. “Cynthia, I… I don’t even know if I’d be a match.”
Her face brightened, her grip tightening. “Oh, but you are!
I already checked!”
I pulled my hands away, horror washing over me. “You what?!”
She smiled, almost proudly. “I asked Dave about your blood type.
He didn’t know why, of course! But he had you guys checked the last time you went to the doctor, remember? And when he told me, I knew you’d be perfect!”
I felt violated.
This wasn’t just manipulation. This was… calculated. I remembered Dave asking us to find out what our blood types were during that visit.
He’d mentioned something about it being good to know such things for future reference, and I didn’t make a big deal of it.
But now I knew why he wanted to know.
She had planned this. She had been nice to me for weeks—no, months—all because she needed my kidney! I looked at her, really looked at her, and for the first time, I saw the desperation behind the smile.
But I also saw the manipulation. The entitlement.
This wasn’t about love. It was about survival.
“Of course, my Davey would do anything for his mother.
You’re perfect for this! I also matched with him, but I don’t want my baby boy to be cut,” she smiled.
I took a slow, deep breath, forcing a smile to my lips. “Cynthia, I am… so touched.
Really.”
Her eyes sparkled with hope. “Oh, Susan, I knew you’d understand!”
I leaned forward, lowering my voice to a gentle whisper. “But just like you’ve always said…” I reached across the table and patted her hand.
“Family isn’t just about blood. It’s about who we choose.”
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