I had always sensed that my mother-in-law, Denise, didn’t care for me.
She was never outright rude, but there was always an unspoken distance—like she saw me as just a passing phase in her son’s life.
So when my husband, Julian, invited her over for dinner, I wasn’t shocked when, right before we ate, she suddenly received a “work call.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she sighed theatrically, holding up her phone. “It’s my manager—I have to take this.”
Julian looked a little disappointed but nodded. “Of course, Mom.”
She stepped away, phone pressed to her ear. “Yes, I understand. No, that’s totally fine. I can leave now if you need me to.” She threw us an exaggeratedly regretful glance as if she truly hated to miss dinner.
But I wasn’t convinced.
Then I saw it.
As she tapped her phone, there was no call screen, no active timer, no missed call alert. Instead, her front camera was open, reflecting her own slightly confused face.
She quickly fumbled to close it, but it was too late—I had already seen.
I glanced at Julian, but he hadn’t noticed. Now, I had a choice to make.
I could have called her out on the spot. I could have laughed, made a sarcastic comment, or simply given her a knowing look. But instead, I smiled sweetly.
“Oh no, Denise, are you sure you have to go? We made your favorite—lemon herb chicken.”
She hesitated for just a second, her fingers tightening around her phone. She knew I had caught her. I saw it in the way her gaze darted away, in how she shifted on her feet, like a child caught sneaking an extra cookie.
But she was already committed to the lie. “Yes, unfortunately,” she said, forcing a regretful tone. “Work emergency. You know how it is.”
I exhaled slowly. I wasn’t angry—just tired of the games. But this? This was a new level of avoidance.
Later that evening, I casually brought it up with Julian.
“Did you notice anything weird about your mom’s call?”
I hesitated, not wanting to stir up conflict. But he needed to know. “She wasn’t actually on a call. Her front camera was open.”
For a moment, Julian’s expression was unreadable. Then, he let out a small chuckle. “I don’t know whether to be irritated or impressed.”
I smiled, relieved he wasn’t upset. “So, what now?”
Julian drummed his fingers on the table, thinking. Then a mischievous glint appeared in his eyes. “We invite her over again.”
The following week, we went all out—her favorite meal, a beautifully set table, and even a dessert she loved. I wanted to see if she’d pull the same stunt.
And sure enough, just as we were about to sit down, her phone “rang.” Barely glancing at the screen, she stood up. “Oh dear,” she sighed. “It’s work again. I really hate to do this, but—”
This time, Julian smoothly interrupted. “No worries, Mom. We’ll wait.”
She hesitated, clearly caught off guard. “Uh… well… it might be a long call.”
An awkward silence followed before she finally sighed and set her phone down. “Alright, fine. You got me.”
Her face flushed slightly. “It’s not that I don’t want to be here. It’s just… I’m used to it being just Julian and me. And now things feel different. I know it sounds silly, but sometimes it feels like I’ve lost my son.”
Julian reached for her hand. “Mom, you haven’t lost me.”
She nodded slowly. “I know. And I know you love her. I guess I just felt like if I stopped coming, eventually, you’d stop inviting me.”
I placed my hand over hers. “Denise, you don’t have to pretend. If you need time, that’s okay. But just know—you’re always welcome. Not out of obligation, but because we truly want you here.”
That night, for the first time, we had a real conversation. She still wasn’t overly warm, but she made an effort. And, for once, it felt like maybe—just maybe—she saw me as more than a temporary part of Julian’s life.
Relationships aren’t always simple. They take patience, honesty, and sometimes a little strategy. But in the end, everyone just wants to feel like they belong.
