When my mother-in-law, Jane, suddenly moved in after claiming a flood ruined her home, I thought it was a short-term fix. But her suspicious behavior and Joe’s guilty expression hinted at something deeper. I was tired, confused, and overwhelmed by her boxes and floral-scented invasion. And just like that, our peaceful home was no longer ours.

Her “temporary” stay turned permanent fast. She unpacked, decorated the guest room, and declared her stay without even looking at me. When I questioned Joe, he brushed it off, insisting it was no big deal. But something didn’t add up—her luxury house flooding just didn’t seem right. My instincts told me she had another motive.

That night, I overheard the truth. Jane hadn’t come because of any flood—she was on a mission to investigate why Joe and I hadn’t given her grandchildren yet. Furious but determined, I decided I wouldn’t fight her with anger. Instead, I waged a war with kindness. Step one: give her our master bedroom and treat her like royalty.

While Jane lived in luxury, Joe began to crumble under her relentless baby-pressure: parenting books, vitamin schedules, kale dinners, and lectures about maturity. Eventually, he snapped. He booked her a hotel and reclaimed our home. As the door finally closed behind her, I smiled at Joe. “So… kale for dinner?” He groaned. “Never again.”