My Mother-in-Law Took Over My Room Like It Was Hers. My Response?  (2 of 3)

I laughed. Out loud. I actually thought it was some weird joke. Until Ethan—my husband—walked in behind her, carrying another one of her suitcases like he was her personal bellhop. He set it down without a word.

I turned to him. “You’re not serious.”

He looked at me like I was the crazy one. “It’s not a big deal,” he said with a shrug. “Just sleep in the guest room for a week. Mom had a long flight. She needs to rest.”

No apology. No discussion. Just a blank face and a tone that suggested I was being unreasonable for objecting.

I looked down at my clothes—my jeans, my sweaters, my undergarments—crumpled on the floor like trash. And I realized something:

They didn’t expect me to argue.

They expected me to submit.

So I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I smiled. “Of course,” I said.

Then I gathered my clothes and walked to the guest room.

But not to stay there.

That night, I booked a hotel.