My Husband Called to Say He Demolished My House, I Just Laughed

I think living together wasn’t all bad for Scott. True to his word, Scott didn’t help with anything, but I’m glad I could live with my mother.

She seemed energetic, but she often felt weak and spent a lot of time lying down during the day. I prepared her meals, fed her, and managed her medication.

It would have been impossible for her to do all that alone. “I’m sorry, Amy. Thank you. It’s a big help that you’re here with me. I should thank Scott too,”

my mother said, expressing her gratitude many times.

She was unaware of the harsh words Scott had said about living together, so she was grateful to him too. One evening, after my mother had gone to bed and Scott returned home, I brought up the subject of my mother’s treatment while serving dinner.

Scott glared at me and said:

“I don’t know what you want me to say. I told you I’m not helping with anything,”

refusing even to listen.

I needed someone to vent to, someone to consult. All I wanted was for Scott to listen.

Even after two months, three months, Scott’s attitude didn’t change. He constantly complained about living together, acting as if he was doing a great favor, and his behavior became more obnoxious day by day.

But I couldn’t say anything against it. Between worrying about my mother and being considerate of Scott, I was becoming more stressed.

Around the time of the two-year prognosis, my mother’s condition worsened rapidly and she was hospitalized. Five days later, she passed away.

Although I had prepared myself mentally, I was devastated. My brother’s family and my children came right away and helped a lot.

But in times like this, you really want your spouse by your side. However, Scott was laughing and chatting with his parents in a corner, not helping with the funeral preparations at all.

My brother had taken the lead role in the preparations, and somehow we got everything ready for the funeral. But Scott, who should have been sitting in the family section, was at the very back of the relative section.

“Scott, I want you to sit in the family section,”

I said. He replied:

“No, I’m fine here. I’m not a blood relative after all.”

The Cruelty of Outsiders

“But you’re my husband,”

I said. Then his mother chimed in:

“He’s your husband, but he’s not your mother’s son. Scott is our son, so he’s an outsider, you know. Amy should sit in the family section.”

Hearing this from my in-laws was painful. I was left speechless.

Where I come from, it’s common for sons-in-law to sit in the family section at funerals, though this might vary by area. With Scott not in the family section, distant relatives started whispering, wondering if we had divorced.

It’s one thing for people to gossip, but all this could have been avoided if Scott had just sat there. Feeling a bit upset that Scott wasn’t by my side, we still managed to see my mother off peacefully.

After the funeral, my brother’s family, my children, Scott, and his parents returned to my family home. “Thank you for coming, especially at such a busy time,”

I said to my in-laws, offering them some tea. They laughed and replied:

“Really, it’s something. First your father, now your mother. These funeral expenses are a burden for us too, but at least that’s the end of it.”

I was stunned by their words. What do they mean by that?

I couldn’t believe they would say such a thing. I forced a smile and excused myself.

Then I overheard Scott talking with his parents. “It must have been tough for you, Scott, living with outsiders.”

“Yeah, dealing with Amy’s whims was a pain. A husband shouldn’t just follow his wife’s demands. If you don’t like something, you have every right to refuse,”

Scott said.

I clenched my fists. Their voices, laughing and chatting, were unbearable.

But this wasn’t new. Scott’s parents had always been insensitive and rude.

When Scott and I got married, his mother said:

“Couldn’t you find someone more attractive? I can’t expect much for grandchildren.”

His father joked:

“They say beauty gets boring after three days. With Amy, you won’t get bored.”

And Scott just laughed. Reflecting back, neither Scott nor his parents had said a single comforting word to me either at my father’s funeral or after my mother’s passing.

Instead, they ridiculed me. I had felt sorry for imposing on Scott, but now I questioned his behavior as a person.

I had been too concerned about Scott while just wanting to do right by my mother. I realized I shouldn’t have felt so guilty towards Scott, especially since he wasn’t supportive.

While I seethed in anger, Scott and his parents continued to laugh and chat in another room. If my brother’s family and my kids had heard them, they would have been upset, but fortunately, they were in the kitchen.

I was relieved to be the only one who heard Scott and his parents’ conversation. Then my mother-in-law spoke up.

“Amy!”

she called.

“Yes,”

I replied, startled.

“Can I have this?”

she asked, holding my mother’s purse. Confused, I stammered:

“Oh, well…”

“Your mother won’t be needing it anymore, right? Scott suggested I take it home. Maybe I’ll just keep it,”

she said, holding up the purse and inspecting it.

I couldn’t believe her audacity, especially right after the funeral. I took the purse from her and said firmly:

“No, you can’t.”

Her expression changed, not because of the purse, but because I, her daughter-in-law, stood up to her. Yet I stood my ground.

“We’re not ready to sort through my mother’s belongings yet. We’ll distribute her keepsakes among the family later.”

My mother-in-law turned red with anger.

“What do you mean? Are you saying I’m an outsider?”

“You said earlier at the funeral that even Scott was an outsider to my mother. How come Scott is an outsider but your family isn’t?”

I retorted. Hearing this, Scott and his father also turned red.

“What are you saying? Apologize to Mom! How disrespectful of a daughter-in-law to talk like that!”

Their commotion drew everyone from the other room.

“I didn’t expect to be called an outsider after all the effort we put into attending the funeral. Let’s go home, Dad!”

my mother-in-law shouted at me in front of everyone and stormed out of our house. For some reason, even Scott was angry and left with his parents.

“What happened? Did you really call your mother-in-law an outsider?”

everyone asked me, having heard only her side. Taken out of context, it might have seemed like I was the one being harsh, but I explained the situation to everyone and not a single person blamed me.

“Grandpa and Grandma should be more considerate of other people’s feelings.”

“That’s just how Dad, Grandma, and Grandpa have always been.”