Just Three Months After My Wedding, My Face Was in a Horrible Condition. My Husband No Longer Kissed Me, and My Mother-in-Law Changed My Pillowcase Every Day, Saying, “With a Face Like That, You Won’t Stay by My Son’s Side for Long.” One Night, I Accidentally Overheard Her Telling My Husband, “If You Can’t Get Rid of Her, I’ll Do It Myself.”

But I still had one question.

“Then why did you take my makeup bag and tell me to leave the house?”

Martha took a deep breath.

“That morning, Mike said again that he didn’t want to go anywhere with you. I realized that if you kept living in our house, you would become more broken with every passing day. I wanted you to go stay with your mother until things became clearer. I took your makeup bag because I was worried that one of the products I’d bought for you might be irritating your skin. I wanted to put everything aside so you could show it to the doctor. But I didn’t even try to explain any of that to you. I made the decision for you. And I was terribly wrong.”

She began to cry.

“I was so afraid you would repeat my life that, in the end, I became one of the very people I was supposed to protect you from.”