My heart sank. “We’re married. We have children. This is ridiculous!”
He rolled his eyes, already done with the conversation. “It’s fine. You’re overreacting.”
I felt a pit in my stomach. Then it hit me. “Wait… where are the twins sleeping?”
“Oh, they’ll be with us,” his mother said cheerfully. “We’ve set up a crib in our room. The barn’s not suitable for them.”
I was speechless. “But they’re babies! They need to be with me.”
“Well,” my father-in-law said sternly, “this is how we’ve arranged it.”
That was the breaking point. My voice shook with anger. “You expect me to sleep in a barn while you keep my babies in your room? Mike, what is going on?”
But Mike had already disappeared, off catching up with his friends. I couldn’t believe it.
I marched to the barn, grabbed my phone, and snapped photos of the makeshift sleeping quarters. Then I booked the earliest flight home.
As I sat at the airport, twins sleeping in my arms, I posted the photos online, venting about the entire fiasco. I felt a sense of relief wash over me as I boarded the plane. Finally, I was free.
Now, my phone is blowing up with furious messages from Mike and his family. “How could you embarrass us like that?” “Delete the post!” they demanded.
I can’t help but laugh. Embarrass them? After how they treated me, they should be embarrassed. Sleeping in a barn was humiliating enough. And now they want me to apologize?
My mom, holding one of the twins as we sit by the Christmas tree, asks softly, “Are you okay, honey?”
I sigh. “Mike and his family are upset. They want me to apologize and take the post down.”
She looks at me, her expression calm. “Do you regret it?”
I shake my head. “No, Mom. I’m just tired of trying to keep the peace.”
She smiles gently. “You and the twins are always welcome here. Sometimes standing up for yourself means not making everyone else happy.”
I glance at the glowing Christmas lights and feel a peace I didn’t have at Mike’s parents’ house. My phone buzzes again, but this time, I ignore it. “I don’t think I’m going back,” I say quietly.
Mom hands me the other twin, who curls her tiny fingers around mine. “You deserve better,” she whispers. And for the first time in days, I believe it.
