When my mother-in-law, Jennifer, moved in, I tried to stay positive—despite her reputation for being controlling and nosy. At first, things seemed fine. But I soon noticed my belongings were being moved. My perfume was off-center. My sweaters were folded wrong. I knew someone was snooping—and I was sure it was her. Mark, my husband, didn’t believe me. He thought I was imagining things. So I set a trap,
I wrote a fake journal entry saying I felt unloved and was thinking of leaving Mark. Then I hid it deep in the closet—somewhere no one would find it unless they were looking. Three days later, during a family dinner, Jennifer exploded. “She’s hiding something from you, Mark,”
she declared, eyes locked on me. “Check her closet. She’s planning to leave you.” Mark looked at me, stunned. I calmly asked Jennifer how she knew about the journal. She stammered. I smiled. “That diary was fake. I planted it to catch whoever’s been snooping.” The room went silent. Jennifer turned
red. Mark finally saw the truth. Later,
he apologized. “I didn’t believe you,” he said. “I should’ve.” Now, the bedroom feels like mine again. Peaceful. Jennifer avoids my eyes. She knows I caught her—and that’s enough.
