After Discovering The Abnormal Relationship Between My Father-in-law And Wife, I Got Divorced-5
Shadows at the Wedding
James dominated the planning. He chose her dress—demure and conservative. He vetted the guest list—excluding friends he deemed "unsuitable." Even our first dance song was his pick—a slow old tune, miles from our tastes. On the day, during the father-daughter aisle walk, James placed Lisa's hand in mine but didn't release it. His grip tightened over both, lingering for seconds as he met my eyes—scrutinizing, possessive. I instinctively pulled Lisa closer.
The Trailing Honeymoon
We booked a week in the Caribbean—sun, sand, and freedom. On the third afternoon, sunbathing on loungers, Lisa's phone buzzed. She answered instantly: "Hi, Dad?" James's voice was clear: "Enjoying it? Hotel safe? Stay away from bars..." For twenty minutes, she recited details like a student reporting in. After hanging up, she flushed: "Dad just checked in." He called daily for the rest of the trip.
The Uninvited Visitor
After marrying, we rented an apartment half an hour from James's. I hoped distance would bring respite. The second Saturday at eight AM, the doorbell rang. James stood there, toolbox in hand. "Good morning. Your community's lovely, but porch lights seem faulty. Let me fix them." He strode in, familiar with the layout. Lisa and I gaped in pajamas. From then on, the bell chimed at nine every Saturday—with bread, or fence repairs—always a reason.
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James dominated the planning. He chose her dress—demure and conservative. He vetted the guest list—excluding friends he deemed "unsuitable." Even our first dance song was his pick—a slow old tune, miles from our tastes. On the day, during the father-daughter aisle walk, James placed Lisa's hand in mine but didn't release it. His grip tightened over both, lingering for seconds as he met my eyes—scrutinizing, possessive. I instinctively pulled Lisa closer.
The Trailing Honeymoon
We booked a week in the Caribbean—sun, sand, and freedom. On the third afternoon, sunbathing on loungers, Lisa's phone buzzed. She answered instantly: "Hi, Dad?" James's voice was clear: "Enjoying it? Hotel safe? Stay away from bars..." For twenty minutes, she recited details like a student reporting in. After hanging up, she flushed: "Dad just checked in." He called daily for the rest of the trip.
The Uninvited Visitor
After marrying, we rented an apartment half an hour from James's. I hoped distance would bring respite. The second Saturday at eight AM, the doorbell rang. James stood there, toolbox in hand. "Good morning. Your community's lovely, but porch lights seem faulty. Let me fix them." He strode in, familiar with the layout. Lisa and I gaped in pajamas. From then on, the bell chimed at nine every Saturday—with bread, or fence repairs—always a reason.
NEXT >>