He pressed his fingers to his temple.
“She said that you embarrassed her, Arielle. That you made her look bad on purpose.”
I exhaled a long and steady breath. Then I almost smiled.
“Darling, she did that to herself.
I handed her the stage and she tripped over her own two feet because she didn’t bother to listen. We have a smart apartment, Carter. Everything is fancy.
She didn’t give me the chance to speak that day, she just wanted me out.”
A woman holding her head in her hands | Source: Unsplash
Silence took over.
“I’m not asking you to pick sides,” I added, softer now. “But I’m done pretending this is normal. It’s not.
It’s manipulative. And if I keep letting her take up space in my life like this, it stops being her fault and starts being mine.”
“So, what now?”
“I’m going to clean up this mess. I’m going to keep living in the home I designed.
I’m going to host dinners here and wear whatever makes me feel strong. And if your mother is invited to any of these events, she’ll be treated like any other guest. That’s it.”
Food on a table | Source: Unsplash
He nodded slowly, understanding that “guest” was the operative word.
“But you need to speak to her.
Lay down the rules and show Barbara that she’s not entitled to our home.”
It’s been a few months and Barbara hasn’t asked to host anything since.
She sent me a belated apology email a week later. No greeting. Just three rushed lines without any punctuation.
A man sitting on a couch | Source: Unsplash
“Didn’t mean to upset you
It was a misunderstanding anyway
Hope we can move past it”
I left it on read, where it belonged.
A person using a laptop | Source: Unsplash
And now, whenever I host something in my home and I’m invited to stay, I make sure Barbara always gets the same seat.
Right next to the pantry. Close enough to the kitchen in case she wants to “manage” again. But far enough from me that I can’t hear her chewing.
I don’t smile when I hand her the place card or a napkin.
But I do look her straight in the eye. This home is still a curated experience. But now, it reflects me.
My boundaries, my peace, my rules.
Because this time, I’m not asking to be included. I’m deciding who gets to stay.
A woman wearing a white dress | Source: Pexels
What would you have done?
Source: amomama
