**Personal Diary Entry**
My husband has been living with his so-called “ill” mother for six months now, with no intention of coming home. He accuses me of refusing to understand him. It’s infuriating. He moved in with her temporarily—or so he claimed—but what was meant to be weeks has stretched into half a year. Before this, the longest he stayed was three weeks. Now? It’s beyond ridiculous. And still, he insists I’m the one being unreasonable, that I won’t support him through this.
How am I supposed to help a mother-in-law who’s deliberately sabotaging our marriage? She’s clinging to her son in the simplest way possible—pretending to be helpless. I’ve lived with that woman before. Never again.
When Edward and I decided to marry, his mother took it bitterly. She never hid her disapproval, though she avoided outright arguments. She wanted her son to see her as the perfect mother, but every interaction with me was laced with petty jabs and resentment. I ignored it—we hardly needed to speak, anyway. We had our own flat, where Edward and I lived together. Of course, she hated that too. It must be frustrating, losing control over your son’s life, especially when his wife has no interest in winning your approval.
So, she devised another plan. Not an original one, mind you. She decided to play the frail, ailing woman in desperate need of constant care.
Edward, bless him, had never been exposed to her manipulations before. He became utterly devoted, spending every spare moment at her house. The “poor old dear” had so many ailments, she could’ve been a medical marvel. Hypertension one minute, dangerously low blood pressure the next—chest pains, backaches, creaky knees, even fainting spells. It took me a while to realise it was all an act. At first, I thought it was stress. Her precious boy had moved in with another woman—no surprise her body was rebelling.
The first time she fell “seriously ill,” with Edward staying over for a week, I packed a bag and went to help. I genuinely thought it was serious. That first day, she played the part perfectly. But by day two, I noticed something odd. Her symptoms vanished the moment Edward left the house. She’d perk up, laughing and chatting like nothing was wrong. The second he walked back in? Instant relapse.
I told Edward what I’d seen. He didn’t believe me—no shock there. She’s a brilliant actress. But I wasn’t fooled. I packed my things and left.
Edward came home a few days later, saying his mother had improved. Clearly, my absence had brought her immense joy—the price she was willing to pay. Yet within weeks, she was “ill” again. And every time, Edward moved right back in, indefinitely. Strangely, she’d miraculously recover whenever I suggested calling a doctor. Healthy people don’t get that sick that often—there’s usually a reason.
But the moment she feared an actual medical examination, she’d bounce back. And Edward, reassured his beloved mother was out of danger, would finally return to me.
Now, here we are—six months into this farce. It started with a legitimate reason: she’d had knee surgery. Two years ago, she fell and damaged it. The doctor recommended the operation to prevent future complications.
Edward stayed with her during her recovery—a week of bed rest. Of course I didn’t object. She needed help. But a week passed. Then a month. And still, he didn’t come home. She started faking setbacks—claiming she’d fallen while walking, barely managing to get up while he was at work.
Six months. Six months of Edward living there, swallowing every lie. No doctor can find anything wrong. The surgery was a success; she walks perfectly fine. No marathons, but she doesn’t even need a cane. But what do doctors know, right?
I’ve given him an ultimatum: come home for good, or I’ll file for divorce. Now he’s accusing *me* of not loving him, of failing to understand. “I’m not with some mistress,” he says. “I’m caring for my mother—she needs me.”
All my friends ask why I’ve waited so long. It’s obvious, they say. We should’ve divorced ages ago. Maybe they’re right. Even I’ve finally accepted it, though part of me kept hoping Edward would come to his senses. But it’s time to face reality.
