After 14 steady years of marriage, everything changed when my husband, Trent, moved his mother, Gloria, into our home. It was “temporary,” he said—she’d been scammed by her boyfriend and had nowhere to go.
But Gloria didn’t come grateful. She came entitled.
She criticized my cooking, rearranged my kitchen, and filled the house with sharp, constant judgment. I stayed quiet to keep the peace. Family helps family, right?
Meanwhile, when my own mother became ill, Trent suggested a nursing home—while his mother lived rent-free under our roof.
That was the breaking point.
I put a **For Sale** sign in the yard.
The shock on their faces didn’t fix the deeper truth: our marriage was already over. The house felt hollow, and so did we.
Then one morning, as the sun rose and I sat alone with my coffee, the phone rang.
“This is Riverside General,” a calm voice said. “Your mother has had a fall.”
And just like that, everything shifted again.