Then came her birthday, a day that proved to be the tipping point. She requested that I prepare dinner for her friends, hoping to flaunt my culinary abilities. Despite my frustration, I acquiesced, spending hours crafting a dish of spaghetti Bolognese with the finest ingredients I could afford.

When her friends arrived, the evening began on a positive note, with laughter and compliments echoing through the room. I almost allowed myself to believe that I had misjudged them.

But my illusions were shattered when I overheard their conversation as I stood in the kitchen. The whispered words were a dagger to my heart, mocking my efforts and casting me as the incompetent daughter-in-law.