They say you never really know someone until you’ve lived with them. I thought I knew my mother-in-law, but everything changed when I decided to follow her. What I uncovered wasn’t just a secret; it was a ticking time bomb that threatened the peace of our home.
I used to think my life was predictable, with its comforting routine. I worked as a freelance graphic designer, which gave me the flexibility to be home most days while still bringing in a decent income.
A woman working on her laptop from home | Source: Midjourney
Xander, my husband, worked long hours at his law firm, so I often had the house to myself. It was peaceful until my mother-in-law, Cordelia, moved in three months ago.
After her husband passed away, she called us one night, her voice trembling.
“Olive, dear… I don’t know how to do this on my own,” she’d sobbed over the phone. “The house is so empty, so lonely… I just need to be around my family.”
An extremely sad senior woman talking on her phone | Source: Midjourney
I glanced at Xander, and he nodded, looking concerned. We agreed to let Cordelia move in; it felt like the right thing to do for a grieving woman who’d just lost her partner of 40 years. But from the start, something felt off.
Cordelia had always been a little strange, but now her behavior was unpredictable. Every Thursday, she would leave early in the morning and return late in the evening, her clothes carrying a terrible stench: something rotten and damp, like decay. It lingered, clinging to the air and making me question what she was really up to.
A woman looks thoughtful and curious while sitting at home | Source: Midjourney
“Mom, where were you today?” Xander asked her one Thursday evening as she shuffled into the kitchen, her eyes avoiding ours. I stood by the stove, pretending to stir a pot of soup, trying not to wrinkle my nose at the smell.
“Oh, just out with some old friends,” she said, waving a hand dismissively, her smile tight and unconvincing.
A senior woman forces a smile while looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
“Every Thursday?” I asked, keeping my tone casual. “That must be some social circle.”
She glanced at me, her eyes lingering a moment too long, then shrugged. “We like to meet regularly. It’s good for the soul, you know, catching up with old friends.”
But that smell — it was like she’d been crawling through a sewer. The scent lingered long after she’d passed, a pungent blend of garbage and something wet and decayed. I could feel my curiosity gnawing at me, the way you can’t help but poke at a sore tooth.
A curious woman standing in the kitchen and looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
One Wednesday night, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Xander,” I whispered, nudging him awake. “Are you seriously buying that story?”
He blinked sleepily. “What story?”
“Your mom’s ‘out with old friends’ story,” I replied. “Every Thursday? And that smell… it’s not normal.”
He sighed. “Maybe she’s just grieving in her own way, Olive. People cope differently.”
I felt my jaw tighten. “And what way is that? Dumpster diving?”
He chuckled softly, half-asleep, “Let it go, love. It’s probably nothing.”
A man chuckles softly while lying in bed at night | Source: Midjourney
But it didn’t feel like “nothing.” It felt like a secret, and I needed to know.
The next Thursday, I called in sick and decided to follow her. I waited by the window, peeking through the blinds like some kind of amateur detective. Cordelia left the house at her usual time, dressed in her oversized coat, clutching her handbag tightly.
I kept a safe distance as she walked down the street, turning left at the end and then another left into an alley I didn’t even know existed. My heart pounded in my chest as I tailed her.
A woman is out on the street, looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
She stopped at the corner and looked around like she was checking for someone or something.
“Where are you going, Cordelia?” I whispered, more curious than ever.
I was expecting something harmless, maybe even laughable, like an old ladies’ knitting club or maybe a bingo night in a creepy basement. But what I found inside was nothing like that.
Cordelia didn’t meet up with friends. Instead, she made her way through the shadiest part of town, slipping into an old, run-down building that looked like it could collapse at any moment.
A senior woman standing outside an old building | Source: Midjourney
I hesitated outside, the walls covered in graffiti and the windows boarded up, but I took a deep breath and followed her inside. The air was thick with smoke, the kind that sticks to your skin, and the room was filled with the low hum of murmurs and distant laughter.
That’s when I saw it: a hidden, illegal casino tucked away in the back, reeking of stale smoke and the sour smell of desperation. The dimly lit room was filled with flashing lights and the sounds of poker chips clinking filled the air.
Stacks of poker chips on a table | Source: Pexels
And there, in the middle of it all, was my mother-in-law. Not just “hanging out with friends,” but gambling away every penny she could get her hands on, her eyes fixed on the cards in front of her, her hands trembling with each bet she placed.
I stayed in the shadows, barely breathing, watching her play hand after hand. She looked different, haggard, almost like she was wearing the weight of every decision she’d ever made. Her lips were moving, but I couldn’t hear what she was saying over the noise.
A grayscale photo of a senior woman sitting in a casino with gambling chips lying on her table | Source: Midjourney
I saw her lose money, win a little, then lose it all again. She seemed almost possessed, her fingers shaking as she reached for the chips, her face lined with a mixture of desperation and obsession.
I wanted to pull her out of there, to grab her by the arm and drag her home, but I couldn’t move. I felt frozen, glued to the spot. I needed to see how far she would go. She didn’t leave until late in the evening, and when she finally did, she looked exhausted.
A senior woman looks exhausted while sitting in a casino | Source: Midjourney
Her eyes were glazed over, and her shoulders slumped like she was carrying the weight of her losses on her back.
I waited until she turned the corner before I followed, keeping my distance. As we walked back, I felt a wave of anger and pity twisting in my stomach. What had she gotten herself into? And why hadn’t she told us?
The next morning, I couldn’t hold it in any longer. At breakfast, I set my coffee cup down a little too hard. “Cordelia, where were you yesterday?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.
A woman looks serious while standing in the kitchen and looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
She barely looked up from her cereal. “With friends, like I told you.”
“Stop lying, Cordelia,” I snapped. “I followed you. I know where you were.”
Her spoon clattered against the bowl, and she went pale. “You… you followed me?”
Xander looked between us, confused. “What’s going on?”
“She wasn’t with friends, Xander,” I said, my gaze fixed on her. “She was at an illegal casino, gambling. And from the looks of it, she’s been doing it for a while.”
A senior woman gambling in a casino | Source: Midjourney
Cordelia’s face crumpled, and she broke down. “I… I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I’ve lost everything… everything. I had nowhere else to go. That’s why I begged you to let me stay. I was ashamed, and I didn’t know how to tell you…”
Xander’s face turned a deep shade of red. “You mean to tell me you’ve been lying to us this whole time? Using us?”
“I didn’t mean to!” she cried. “I didn’t know how to stop. I thought maybe… maybe I could win it all back.”
A grayscale photo of a senior woman looking sad and desperate | Source: Midjourney
I felt a pang of guilt, but it was overshadowed by the anger boiling inside me. “You’ve been draining us, Cordelia. We took you in because we cared, not so you could feed your addiction.”
She looked at me, her face streaked with tears. “I know, I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll change. Just… don’t throw me out. Please.”
That night, Xander and I lay in bed, unable to sleep. “We have to do something,” I whispered. “We can’t just let her keep doing this.”
Xander sighed deeply. “What do you suggest, Olive? Tough love?”
A man looking at his wife while sitting in bed at night | Source: Midjourney
I nodded. “Exactly. If she’s not going to stop on her own, then we’ll have to make her stop.”
The following Thursday, I handed her a large sum of cash, more than she had seen in one place since she’d moved in with us. Her eyes widened, and for a moment, I saw that familiar spark of greed.
“Go ahead,” I said, forcing a smile. “Take this and do whatever you want with it.”
A woman forcing a smile while looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
She hesitated for just a second before snatching the money and stuffing it into her purse.
“Thank you, Olive,” she murmured, her voice shaking, but she didn’t meet my eyes. And then she was gone, practically running out the door.
Xander stood behind me, his arms crossed. “Are you sure about this?”
“Trust me,” I replied. “She won’t get far.”
Earlier that day, I had made a few calls, and by the time Cordelia reached the casino, the place was swarming with undercover cops. The raid went down right as she was about to hand over the cash.
Two cops standing in a casino | Source: Midjourney
I wasn’t there to see it, but I could imagine the look on her face: shock, maybe a little betrayal, as they caught her red-handed, along with the owners of the illegal casino.
That evening, the phone rang. It was the police. “Mrs. Fields?” the officer said. “We have your mother-in-law in custody.”
“We know,” I replied calmly. “And we’re not bailing her out. You should know she’s been struggling with a gambling addiction. We want her to get help.”
A woman talking on her phone | Source: Midjourney
The officer seemed taken aback but eventually agreed to include our statement in the report. The judge showed no mercy; Cordelia was sentenced to mandatory rehabilitation and a hefty fine.
Months later, when she was released from rehab, Cordelia looked different. She seemed smaller, more fragile. She stood in our doorway, wringing her hands.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice raw. “I know I hurt you both, and I’m ready to make it right. I want to rebuild my life.”
A senior woman looks sad and ashamed | Source: Midjourney
Xander and I exchanged a look. He stepped forward, his expression soft but firm.
“We’re willing to give you another chance, Mom,” he said, “but on our terms. We’ve found you a modest apartment nearby. We’ll cover the rent, but only if you keep your word and attend your support group meetings.”
Cordelia nodded eagerly, tears in her eyes. “I will. I swear. Thank you… thank you for giving me a chance.”
As we watched her walk away to her new home, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope mixed with the fear of another betrayal.
A woman looks hopeful and a bit fearful while standing outside her house and looking at something | Source: Midjourney
We’d done all we could, and the rest was up to her. The ball was in her court, and only time would tell if she could truly change.
But when Natasha starts to see a change in Marlene’s behavior, she begins to get worried about the old woman. Eventually, when the truth is revealed, Natasha doesn’t know what to do.
Two women cooking together | Source: Pexels
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
My Wedding Planner Said I Canceled My Own Wedding but I Didn’t – The Truth Left Me Speechless
My Wedding Planner Said I Canceled My Own Wedding but I Didn’t – The Truth Left Me Speechless
Chelsea is all set to marry Rasmus, the man of her dreams. But when the wedding day arrives and no guests show up, Chelsea has to figure out who canceled her wedding and whether her groom is right for her or not.
A coffee bar and bakery | Source: Pexels
I’ve always wanted that ‘Happily Ever After’ kind of romantic life. So, when I met Rasmus, I thought I had finally gotten it. But as my wedding day began to unravel, it seemed I had gotten the nightmare version instead.
Rasmus and I met at a bakery. It was a sweet little meet-cute situation — where I was convinced he was the perfect person for me. We exchanged numbers over rye bread.
“I’ll be seeing you around, Chelsea,” he said, holding onto a loaf of artisanal bread.
He called me just as he left the bakery, wanting us to have dinner that night.
Two short years later, we were waking up to our wedding day.
That morning, I showered early, eagerly awaiting my hair and makeup appointments. I remember sitting at the edge of the hotel bed, looking at my dress and holding my breath.
I couldn’t wait to marry Rasmus. I couldn’t wait to begin our lives together.
A person pouring wine at a restaurant | Source: Pexels
So, the day went on — my maid of honor, my sister Jess, was with me, and we continued to get ready.
“Where’s Mom?” Jess asked. “Shouldn’t she be getting dressed with us?”
“No, we decided it would be best for her and Dad to meet us at the venue. You know she doesn’t get along with Rasmus.”
Jess shook her head.
“You’d think that Mom would have sorted out her feelings by now.”
It was true, my parents loved me — but they just couldn’t see Rasmus and me together.
Bride getting her makeup done | Source: Unsplash
“There’s just something off about him,” my father would say. “But we respect your wishes to marry him.”
Closer to the time, Jess called for the hotel car, and we made our way to the wedding venue.
“Where is everyone?” Jess asked, echoing my thoughts.
It was an entire wedding venue with literally not a soul in sight. There was no welcome sign for the guests, no welcome drinks, no décor, no staff, and absolutely no guests.
Not even Rasmus.
“Get Brenda on the phone,” I said, talking about my wedding planner.
An empty wedding venue | Source: Pexels
I was beginning to panic. I was all dressed and ready to go. It was supposed to be my special day.
“Brenda, where is everyone?” I asked when Jess handed me the phone.
“What do you mean?” Brenda’s calm voice came through the speaker.
“I’m at my wedding venue, and there’s nobody here!” I exclaimed, the panic evident in my voice.
“Chelsea, honey,” Brenda said. “The wedding was canceled. The directive came through your email address just three days ago.”
My heart almost stopped beating.
A person using a laptop | Source: Pexels
How could I have canceled my own wedding? I went through my emails, and sure enough, there it was.
Dear Brenda,
Due to unforeseen circumstances, the wedding is off. Please notify all the guests and the vendors.
But it made no sense. It was from my corporate account — an account that my family had access to because we all worked at the family business together.
My mind raced — did Mom and Dad? Could they really…? No, they couldn’t have.
They always said that it was my life and my choices. Even if they didn’t approve of Rasmus, they wouldn’t hurt me like this.
I needed to hear it from them.
An older couple holding white ceramic mugs | Source: Pexels
But my parents were just as shocked as I was.
“We were on a flight, honey,” my father said. “I had a business meeting, and your mother tagged along with me. We had nothing to do with it. We did get the cancellation from Brenda and just wanted to give you your space.”
“I didn’t see any email,” Jess said. “But you know how bad I am at checking my mail.”
That’s when it hit me — the only other person who would have access to my email accounts, work and personal, was Rasmus.
The same man who was supposed to be waiting for me at the other end of the aisle.
I asked Jess to take me home, ready for answers. I needed to know what was happening and how it all unfolded without my knowledge.
A man with a gray t-shirt and arms crossed | Source: Unsplash
I walked into our little apartment, and there he was. Rasmus, sitting on the couch eating a bowl of cereal. He had no intention of leaving the house because he was in his sweatpants, wearing glasses, and his hair was wavy.
His usual armor of being well-dressed, contacts in, and hair swept into his signature hairstyle was all missing.
A bowl of cereal | Source: Pexels
“You canceled our wedding?” I asked before he could say anything.
Rasmus didn’t even try to hide it. He had canceled the wedding because, three days ago, he realized that as much as he loved me, he wasn’t ready for marriage.
So, he panicked.
“I didn’t have the courage to tell you,” he said. “I figured that you’d think the wedding was on, and then when the slip-up happened, you would want to investigate it. I thought it would take the heat off me.”
As I stood there, my wedding day in ruins around me, I realized that my parents were right. Rasmus wasn’t the person for me. And as much as it hurt, a part of me was relieved he did it.
So, here I am, looking at my wedding dress and wondering what to do with it.
A woman holding her head | Source: Unsplash
What would you have done?
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