The Night I Sent My Wife to the Storeroom — and the Morning That Changed My Life Forever

Reluctantly, my mother agreed. But she never forgot that Anita was an outsider. Every time we wanted to visit her parents, she would invent an excuse to stop us.

When our son was born, the tension deepened. My mother began to interfere in every detail — what Anita cooked, how she held the baby, when she slept.

Whenever arguments broke out, I sided with my mother. “She only wants what’s best for the baby,” I’d say. “Why can’t you just listen?”

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