When my husband died, it felt like the ground disappeared beneath my feet.
But I learned very quickly that grief was only the beginning.
When I married Ryan two years ago, I understood that his relationship with his mother would never be easy. Margaret had made that clear from the very beginning. She never raised her voice or caused scenes. Her disapproval was quieter than that. Sharper.
Her eyes would narrow whenever I walked into a room, as if my presence alone offended her. Conversations stopped when I arrived. Smiles faded. If she spoke to me at all, it was with the politeness one reserves for strangers they don’t intend to know.
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