“I’m fine, thanks,” I smiled, totally mesmerized by my son’s choice. “You look wonderful, Layla!”
At that moment, I had no clue how this woman would soon come into our lives and pull my son away from me. She seemed so nice; I never would have guessed just how cunning she really was.
Toby and Layla tied the knot just six months after our first meeting. I was so happy for my son as he started a new chapter of his life, and my heart was full of good wishes for him. I remember how I couldn’t stop weeping when my boy said his vows like a grown-up man.
Not long after the wedding, Toby and Layla invited me over to their place for lunch. I thought it would be a nice bonding session with my daughter-in-law since it was just the three of us, but it was anything but that.
Toby had asked me to be there at 2 p.m., but I arrived about 10 minutes late, and Layla took that as an opportunity to create a scene.
“Why are you so late, Jennifer?” she asked as soon as I stepped inside the house. I couldn’t see Toby anywhere near the entrance. “I’ve been waiting for you for so long!”
“I… I got late because of the traffic,” I stammered, taken aback by the unexpected confrontation.
“I don’t like hosting people who can’t value my time,” she muttered.
“I’m sorry for that, Layla,” I apologized. “But it was just 10 minutes.”
“I don’t care if it was 10 minutes or 10 hours,” she shot me an angry look. “You need to be on time when you come to my place, underst—”
“Oh, Mom! You’re here!” Toby interrupted. “How are you, my lovely lady?”
“I’m fine, Toby,” I said, hugging him, still reeling from Layla’s behavior. “How are you, my love? Looks like you haven’t been eating well.”
“Nah, I’m good, Mom,” he smiled. “What were you guys talking about?”
“Your wife was say—”
“Nothing, babe,” Layla cut me off. “I was just telling her how beautiful she looks today.”
“Yeah?” Toby’s gaze shifted from his wife to me. “My mom always looks the best!”
At that point, I was stunned by Layla’s behavior. Why was she being so sweet to me in front of Toby? And why didn’t she let me tell him what she had said earlier?
I spent the rest of the afternoon at their house, observing how Layla effortlessly switched on her sweet personality whenever Toby was around. But when he wasn’t looking, she’d throw mean remarks to make me feel unwelcome.
That day marked the beginning of my strained relationship with my daughter-in-law.
Then, one day, I noticed how Toby began taking her side whenever Layla and I argued in front of him.
“Layla’s right, Mom,” Toby said one day when we were at a restaurant deciding what to order for dinner. “We don’t need a large bowl of salad. It’s just the three of us. We’ll manage with a small bowl.”
“See, I’ve been telling your mother to order the small bowl, but she never listens to me,” Layla chuckled. “I don’t know why she never trusts me.”
She played the victim in front of him, and my poor boy always fell for it. I don’t blame him; he had seen his father always side with me. But I wasn’t like Layla. I wasn’t pretending to be a good daughter-in-law in front of my husband.
Layla’s behavior toward me didn’t change until the day she called me. I was genuinely surprised to see her name on my phone screen.
“Hi, Jen!” she chirped through the phone.
Jen? I thought. That’s weird.
“Hi, Layla,” I played along, trying to sound as sweet as possible. “How are you?”
“I’m good,” she said. “I was wondering if I could borrow your car tomorrow. Would that be okay with you?”
“My car?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she sighed. “Actually, I was supposed to visit my friend today. She lives a few hours away, but I couldn’t go because my car broke down. The mechanic says it’ll take a few days before he can fix it.”
“Oh, my! Sounds like there’s a major problem,” I said, genuinely concerned.
“I was so upset, but then Toby suggested I ask if you could lend me your car for a day,” she continued. “I’ll be back in a week.”
A week? I thought. That’s a lot.
But I felt bad for her. She sounded desperate, and she mentioned Toby had suggested it, so I didn’t want to let her down. I also saw it as a chance to mend our relationship.
“Sure, I don’t mind,” I said. “You can come over today if you want.”
And that was one of the biggest mistakes of my life.
A week later, Layla and Toby returned my car, but I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw it. It was covered in scratches, dents, and dust. And the inside? It smelled like rotten onions!
“What have you done to my car?” I spat out. “What happened?”
“Excuse me?” she said, squinting her eyes as if I’d said something outrageous. “What did I do to your car? It was like this when I picked it up the other day.”
“Stop it, Layla!” I yelled at her. “Stop lying.”
“You think I’m lying?” she snapped, turning to Toby. “Babe, look at her! She’s accusing me of lying! How dare she?”
“Mom, Layla’s right,” Toby said. “She told me your car was like this when she picked it up the other day. She’s not lying.”
“Toby? Are you serious?” I stared at him in shock, realizing there was no point in arguing with them.
I had no proof, and neither did she. But Toby sided with her because he was so blindly in love with her.
I realized that arguing might even push my son away, so I decided to teach Layla a lesson instead. I spent the night researching online and stumbled across an incredible idea. A quick call to the nearby pet shop, and my plan was in motion.
The next night, I drove over to their place armed with animal attractant sprays. I carefully sprayed them all over their backyard, driveway, and front porch, making sure to stay out of sight.
With the lights off, I knew they were asleep. I quickly executed my plan and quietly drove away, feeling a mix of nerves and satisfaction.
I was certain this would teach Layla not to mess with me again.
The next morning, I woke up to my phone ringing. It was Toby.
“Mom, I need help!” he cried over the phone.
“What happened, honey?” I asked, feigning ignorance. “Are you okay?”
“We just woke up, and it’s awful here! The yard stinks, and wild animals have turned our place into a toilet! The whole house smells horrible, and we don’t know what to do!”
I secretly smirked, listening to him rant about the mess. The irony was delicious.
“Oh, my!” I pretended to be surprised. “That sounds horrible. I guess that’s what happens when you ruin someone else’s property.”
I don’t know if Toby caught my meaning, but I’m sure his clever wife knew those animals didn’t show up by chance. She had to know it was me, her oh-so-nice mother-in-law, who never fought back before.
Since that day, Layla hasn’t dared to mess with me. We met at a dinner once, and she didn’t try to be rude or complain about me wasting her time. Meanwhile, Toby started calling me regularly, checking in to see how I was doing.
I guess my dear husband Nathan was right after all. My son did need me to pull him out of the trance Layla had drawn him into. He needed me to stand up for myself and set a boundary his wife wouldn’t dare cross again.
What would you have done if you were in my place?
I Gifted My Late Wife’s Apron to My Daughter-in-Law – Imagine My Shock When I Found It in the Dumpster
As Thanksgiving approaches, William mourns his wife, Ellen, and wonders how he’s going to spend their favorite holiday without her. But his daughter-in-law, Amelia, loves to cook and has taken to cooking for dinner. Moved by his feelings and nostalgia, William gifts her Ellen’s most loved and worn apron. But when he finds the apron in the garbage, he realizes that his hurt goes all the way back to his grief, fueling a reaction.
It was the morning before Thanksgiving, and I was feeling the full weight of Ellen not being around anymore. This was the first Thanksgiving without my wife, who had passed away almost a year ago.
A rose on a tombstone | Source: Freepik
I sat on the armchair in my bedroom and left my newspaper to the side. If Ellen were still around, she would have had an entire shopping list ready for me to get.
“It’s just the last-minute things, William,” she would say, absentmindedly doodling on the grocery list while she pondered what else we would need.
A woman writing | Source: Unsplash
“Sure, honey,” I’d always tell her, ready to go to the store and get her everything she needed.
But this year was the first time in 30 years that I wouldn’t have Ellen around for the holidays.
Instead, my son’s wife, Amelia, promised us that she would take over the Thanksgiving dinner.
A smiling young woman | Source: Freepik
“Don’t worry, Dad,” my son, Harry, told me. “Amelia cooks just like Mom, and Mom taught her a few things, too.”
I wasn’t worried about anything. If I had to be honest, I was grateful that the kitchen would be used in all its glory once again. Since Ellen passed away, Harry and Amelia had moved in with me.
A fancy kitchen | Source: Unsplash
“It won’t be for long, Dad,” Harry said. “But I don’t want you to be alone. And this way, Amelia and I can save up for a house in the meantime. We all need to heal together.”
When they moved in, I tried to put a lot of Ellen’s things away. I wanted them to feel at home, too.
Packing boxes | Source: Unsplash
I couldn’t argue with Harry because the thought of being alone in the house that Ellen and I had built was too much. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to cope without her.
I needed the support from my son.
A smiling old man | Source: Unsplash
The longer I sat in my room, wrapped in the thoughts of my wife, the more sentimental I got. Eventually, I decided to pass on something priceless to Amelia.
Opening Ellen’s closet, I pulled out her faded floral apron. It had been around for as long as I could remember, and every holiday had at least one photograph of Ellen in it.
A floral apron | Source: Pexels
There were a few food stains that just couldn’t be removed, but I thought that it added charm to the apron.
I thought that maybe if I passed the apron to Amelia, who shared Ellen’s passion for cooking, she would honor Ellen’s memory and Thanksgiving traditions.
An elderly woman cooking | Source: Pexels
The following morning, I was sitting in the kitchen eating a bowl of cereal when Amelia came in, tying her hair and pulling up her sleeves.
“Hi, William,” she said. “Ready for Thanksgiving?”
A man pouring milk into a bowl | Source: Pexels
“Of course, I am,” I said, smiling at her. “I’ll do whatever you need me to do in the kitchen today.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Harry isn’t going to help at all. He’s probably going to watch the parade or look for sports on TV.”
“There’s something I want you to have,” I told her.
A person watching sport on TV | Source: Pexels
I put the folded apron onto the counter and slid it across to her.
“Ellen would have wanted you to have this, Amelia,” I said. “This was her favorite apron, and she wore it for every holiday that involved the kitchen.”
Amelia smiled at me. It was a polite smile; maybe it was a bit strained, but I dismissed it as my own sentimentality clouding my judgment.
A woman with a forced smile | Source: Pexels
She put the apron on, her face changing slightly when she saw how well-worn it was and the old food stains.
“Great, thank you,” she said. “Let’s cook!”
We spent the next few hours cooking together. Amelia did things differently than Ellen. From her cooking style to the actual ingredients used.
A woman cooking | Source: Pexels
I obeyed all her instructions and watched everything she did. It was different from what I was used to. But I still loved that Amelia was stepping up and taking control of the family holidays.
“Do you think we should do a table setting like what Ellen would have done?” she asked me.
A table setting and decor | Source: Unsplash
“Of course,” I said. “It’s just part of the tradition!”
“Then maybe we should get Harry onto that,” she suggested.
The rest of the day flew by in the kitchen with cooking preparations. Every single time I thought of Ellen, I distracted myself with another task.
A man chopping mushrooms | Source: Pexels
I watched as Amelia bustled around the kitchen in what seemed like genuine delight. As our closest family and friends began showing up for dinner, I went upstairs to freshen up for the occasion.
Everything was perfect, including Harry’s table setting. I missed Ellen throughout the evening, especially when the pies came out. My wife had a tradition of eating two slices of pie, one pecan and one pumpkin.
A pumpkin pie | Source: Pexels
“It’s the one time of year that I eat them,” she would say, spraying whipped cream all over the slices of pie on her plate.
Now, as Harry cut into the pumpkin pie, he caught my eye and smiled, handing me the first piece.
“For Mom,” he said.
Cream on a slice of pie | Source: Pexels
Everything seemed perfect. I went to bed that evening feeling as though my wife had been present. She was there, in the quiet moments after the dinner party, when I loaded the dishwasher and made myself a cup of tea.
But then, with the next morning came a different set of heartbreak.
A person stocking the dishwasher | Source: Unsplash
I was out, taking my usual walk around the block. While taking a shortcut back home through the alley behind our house, I saw something that stopped me in my tracks. A glimpse of floral fabric, peering out from the top of our dumpster.
A man talking a walk | Source: Pexels
It was Ellen’s apron, discarded and partially covered in the newspaper that I had been reading and other refuse.
My heart sank, bringing a different sense of grief to me.
The apron that held so many cherished memories of Ellen was thrown away like common trash.
Outdoor trashcans | Source: Pexels
I retrieved the apron, the dew having made it damp in the crisp morning.
“How could Amelia do this?” I asked myself.
It felt like a betrayal, not just of Ellen’s memory, but of the love and trust that I had placed in her.
An old man holding his chin | Source: Unsplash
I could have let it go. I would have chalked it up to Amelia not wanting to wear something old, or even not wanting to wear something that once belonged to her mother-in-law. But it was the cold way in which she had discarded it.
Determined to teach her a lesson about respect and the value of memories, I thought that I’d sit down to tea with her and talk about cooking. It was the one thing that we constantly bonded over.
A cup of tea | Source: Pexels
Amelia agreed, unaware that I knew about the apron. She followed me up the stairs, and I led her to the attic.
“Come on,” I said. “There’s something I want to show you.”
“Oh, William,” she said when she looked around the attic and saw the neatly preserved boxes.
An attic with stacked boxes and clothing | Source: Midjourney
“I’ve never been in here,” she said. “I didn’t know that we had an attic in this house.”
I stepped aside, allowing her to get into the room properly.
“Since you didn’t find value in the apron, maybe you’ll find something here that you won’t just throw away,” I said, my voice colder than I intended.
A woman covering her face with her hands | Source: Pexels
Amelia, visibly uncomfortable, shifted from foot to foot.
“William, I…” she began, her voice trailing off when she saw the apron hanging from a hook across the room.
I stood in silence as she tried to apologize, but her words seemed hollow.
A woman holding her face | Source: Pexels
“Look,” I said. “Maybe I forced it onto you, and I’m sorry about that, Amelia. But at the same time, I just thought that it would have been something to pass on to you. Not to mention that it was comforting for Harry and me to see.”
She nodded, nervously looking at the door. She was probably wondering if I had told Harry about the incident. I hadn’t. I didn’t want to create any unpleasantness between them.
A couple sitting uncomfortably | Source: Pexels
But I still felt like a rift had been caused between us. As we continued to live under the same roof, I kept to myself as much as possible. I wasn’t angry with Amelia. I was hurt.
I was hurt on behalf of myself, of Ellen, and even Harry, who didn’t know any better.
I knew that I would get over it eventually, but for now, I just needed to let myself grieve my wife, and keep her memory strong.
A smiling old couple | Source: Pexels
What would you have done?
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