After Discovering The Abnormal Relationship Between My Father-in-law And Wife, I Got Divorced-3
The Unreachable Call
On Lisa's birthday, I took time off for a surprise. With a carefully chosen gift and the boutique cake she'd craved, I drove to her house. Arriving, I found it dark and locked. Her phone was off; the landline rang unanswered. I waited in the cold for nearly an hour. Eventually, her elderly neighbor emerged to take out trash and informed me, "Oh, Lisa? Her dad picked her up this afternoon—said they were heading to the theater downtown." Returning home, the cake had melted, the cream collapsed. Around ten, Lisa called back, tone breezy: "Dad took me to the symphony, and my phone was on silent. Sorry, Mike." I clutched the phone, speechless. Her apology felt genuine, but the chilling sense of exclusion was far more real.
The Illusion of Independence
As graduation neared, I discussed future careers and settling down with Lisa. I hoped we'd start fresh on the West Coast, beyond her father's influence. Her eyes flickered with yearning before clouding over. "Dad says... he secured me a spot at a top local accounting firm. And Mom's health is declining, so I need to stay close for care." My heart sank: "Lisa, this is your life! You can't let him dictate everything!" She flared up: "You don't understand, Mike! He cares! Everything he arranges is for my best!" It was her first fierce defense of him. That "best" felt like an inescapable cocoon.
Absence at Graduation
At our college commencement, families gathered. My parents flew in from overseas, waving excitedly from the crowd. But Lisa seemed distracted, constantly checking her phone, her face growing ashen. "What's wrong?" I asked. Her voice trembled: "Dad... he's stuck in traffic and might miss my walk." She rushed to line up backstage. After the ceremony, amid cheers and photos, Lisa stood alone, eyes red from tears, repeatedly dialing her father with no answer. Later, we learned James had simply "misremembered the time."
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On Lisa's birthday, I took time off for a surprise. With a carefully chosen gift and the boutique cake she'd craved, I drove to her house. Arriving, I found it dark and locked. Her phone was off; the landline rang unanswered. I waited in the cold for nearly an hour. Eventually, her elderly neighbor emerged to take out trash and informed me, "Oh, Lisa? Her dad picked her up this afternoon—said they were heading to the theater downtown." Returning home, the cake had melted, the cream collapsed. Around ten, Lisa called back, tone breezy: "Dad took me to the symphony, and my phone was on silent. Sorry, Mike." I clutched the phone, speechless. Her apology felt genuine, but the chilling sense of exclusion was far more real.
The Illusion of Independence
As graduation neared, I discussed future careers and settling down with Lisa. I hoped we'd start fresh on the West Coast, beyond her father's influence. Her eyes flickered with yearning before clouding over. "Dad says... he secured me a spot at a top local accounting firm. And Mom's health is declining, so I need to stay close for care." My heart sank: "Lisa, this is your life! You can't let him dictate everything!" She flared up: "You don't understand, Mike! He cares! Everything he arranges is for my best!" It was her first fierce defense of him. That "best" felt like an inescapable cocoon.
Absence at Graduation
At our college commencement, families gathered. My parents flew in from overseas, waving excitedly from the crowd. But Lisa seemed distracted, constantly checking her phone, her face growing ashen. "What's wrong?" I asked. Her voice trembled: "Dad... he's stuck in traffic and might miss my walk." She rushed to line up backstage. After the ceremony, amid cheers and photos, Lisa stood alone, eyes red from tears, repeatedly dialing her father with no answer. Later, we learned James had simply "misremembered the time."
NEXT >>