When I married my husband, his mother made one thing clear:
“You’re welcome into this family — but don’t forget your place.”
She didn’t like me.
Never hid it.
But when I got pregnant, everything changed.
She became “nice.”
Buying baby clothes, Cooking for me, Even suggested names.
Then she begged: “Let me name the child — it’s a family tradition.”
My husband said I should agree.
I was tired, pregnant, and just wanted peace.
So I said yes.
She named him Chisom.
Said it meant “God is with me.”
I cried tears of joy.
But six months later, things started changing.
My husband became distant. Stopped picking calls. Started sleeping in the guest room.
One day, I saw a message on his phone from his mother: “Have you done Continue_Reading.
