but unmistakably intimate and clearly not meant for anyone else to use. Let’s just say it gave off strong “do not enter” energy.That night, she stayed there without saying a word.The next morning? She came into the kitchen pale and silent. “We’ll take the guest room,” she muttered, eyes downcast. No explanation. No complaints.“Of course,”
I said sweetly. “Whatever makes you more comfortable.” She and my father-in-law spent the next hour quietly moving their things.The rest of the visit passed peacefully. Monica didn’t set foot in our room again. And when Christmas came around? They booked a hotel.Some might call it passive-aggressive. I call it a long-overdue lesson in boundaries. And finally, it stuck.