At her baby shower, Amy’s mother-in-law makes a shocking announcement. But what starts as a power play becomes something else entirely. In a story about control, legacy, and quiet revenge, Amy proves that the most devastating truths are the ones people tell on their own.
People always say pregnancy brings out the softer side of people. But that’s a lie.
In my case, it brought out the worst, especially in my mother-in-law, Diane. To understand what happened, you need to understand her.
Diane isn’t the sweet, nurturing type. She’s the kind of woman who treats family gatherings like a final callback for “The Real Housewives of Ohio.”
Her hair is always perfectly blown out, she wears diamonds to brunch, and her voice is as sugary as the wine in her glass, but sharp enough to cut you when you least expect it. When I married her son, Matt, she gave me a tight-lipped smile, leaned close, and whispered something to me.
“Amy, just remember, darling, he was mine first,” she said. I laughed. I thought she was kidding or trying to be cute.
She wasn’t.
When I got pregnant, Diane behaved as if she were the one carrying the child. She announced the news before I could, ordered custom “Glamma-to-be” shirts in every shade of blush, and started referring to the baby as “ours.”
At first, I tried to stay calm. “Let her have her moment, Amy,” I told myself in the mirror one evening.
Look, I understood… People get eager, and sometimes when they do, they overstep. But then came the baby shower.
The moment she stood in front of my friends and family, raised her glass, and told the entire room what we’d be naming my baby, after the man she used to… sleep with. That was the day everything changed.
Tessa, my friend since college, had spent weeks planning every detail of the baby shower.
She booked a warm little venue downtown, nothing extravagant, but thoughtful in every way. Blue balloons floated from white chairs, delicate sandwiches composed neat triangles, and a three-tiered cake displayed sugar booties and silver stars. It felt like something out of a daydream.
For once, everything felt calm and safe, like the day could belong to me, and I would be the main character. Matt had his arm around my shoulder, and I was mid-laugh at something Tessa had said when Diane stood up and tapped her champagne flute with her fork. “Before we cut this cute little cake,” she said, smiling just wide enough to show her teeth, “I have something special to share with you all.”
“Go ahead,” I said, tilting my head.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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