Part 3The Crumb in the Passenger Seat

I planned to sleep in, but my phone rang early the next morning.

It was Barbara, Ethan's mother.

"Sorry to wake you, Chloe," she said, her voice sugary sweet.

Before I could speak, she launched into her agenda.

"Remind Ethan that his Uncle Jerry's birthday is next Wednesday. Make sure he doesn't forget."

"And don't drink at the party, okay? You need to drive him home."

I rubbed my temples. "Barbara, why don't you call Ethan?"

"Oh, I don't want to wake him," she said naturally. "He works so hard. Not like you, enjoying the easy life at home..."

Standard Barbara.

In her eyes, Ethan sitting in an air-conditioned office was hard labor.

Me cooking, cleaning, managing the finances, and waiting on him hand and foot was "vacation."

I gripped the phone, finally letting my anger surface.

"Actually, Barbara, you might not know this."

"Ethan and I are divorced."

I hung up before she could scream.

I didn't get peace for long. Ethan called that evening.

"Come home. My parents are here."

"Not my problem," I said. "Handle your own family."

"Your parents are here too."

He hung up.

I sighed. I knew I couldn't avoid the fallout forever.

Fine. There were things I wanted to say anyway.

...

When I walked into the house, Barbara looked me up and down and laughed.

"There she is! Oh, young couples fight, it's normal. Chloe probably just got bored at home and wanted some drama."

"But really, Chloe, causing a scene is one thing. Making your parents fly all the way out here? That's selfish. Ethan has a business to run."

I looked at Ethan. He sat on the sofa, scrolling on his phone, acting deaf.

Just like always.

I swallowed the last bit of disappointment. Why did I expect him to defend me?

Barbara was a control freak. She broke up Ethan and his ex because the girl was "too independent."

She picked me because my parents were professors—respectable—and I was "soft."

From the moment I handed her the tea at the wedding, she lectured me on serving her son.

We tried to go to the Maldives for our honeymoon. Barbara insisted on coming.

When we hesitated, she cried about being a lonely widow until we caved.

It was a nightmare. She treated me like the maid, making me carry her bags while she linked arms with Ethan.

She was the queen of passive-aggressive torture.

I hate cilantro. It tastes like soap to me.

But whenever Barbara visited to "help cook," every dish was loaded with cilantro.

"Oh, Chloe, try this," she'd say, piling it on my bowl. "It's good for you."

If I complained, Ethan would snap: "Mom is old, she forgot. Just eat it. Stop being ungrateful."

She would "lose" the AC remote in the summer. She would mix my delicates with Ethan's gym socks in the wash.

Small things. But they piled up until I felt like I was suffocating.

Ethan knew. But Barbara had "sacrificed so much" for him, so he never stood up for me. He just hid in the garage or stayed late at work.

That was when the warmth between us finally died.

I looked Barbara in the eye.

"You called my parents here, not me."

She blinked. "Chloe, you—"

I stepped forward.

"And stop talking about Ethan supporting me. I had a career. He begged me to work for his company when he couldn't afford a CPA. Then you begged me to quit to take care of him."

"Even if I just calculate my rate as a live-in housekeeper and chef, I've paid my way. You think without me as his wife, he stops functioning?"

Ethan stood up. "Chloe! Watch your tone with my mother!"

I snapped.

"That's your mother, not mine! I'm done playing this game!"

"She didn't raise me! I respected her because of you. But now that we're divorcing? I don't have to deal with this toxicity!"

"Where was your voice when she forced me to eat food I hate? When she turned off the AC in July? When she ruined our honeymoon?"

"You coward! You just hid in the garage!"

"Ethan, what kind of man are you?!"

The room went silent. I was shaking, tears streaming down my face.

Ethan looked stunned. For a second, I saw something in his eyes... guilt?

My dad stood up, his face dark. My mom grabbed me and hugged me tight.

"Chloe..." she sobbed.

I buried my face in her shoulder.

I finally realized who I had let down. Not Ethan. Not his mom.

But my own parents, who raised me to be strong, and myself.

"Oh, look at her, so emotional over nothing," Barbara laughed nervously. "We're all family here..."

"I haven't died yet," my mom snapped, lifting her head. "She doesn't need you to be her mother!"

Barbara gasped. "In-law, how can you—"

"Shut up!" My dad stepped in.

"I never wanted her to marry you," Dad said to Ethan. "But she loved you. We gave you a down payment for this house. We asked for nothing but for you to treat her well."

"Is this how you keep your promise?"

Ethan backed away. "Dad, I—"

"Don't call me Dad."

We walked out.

I couldn't go home with them yet because I had to finalize the assets and the court filing.

They left me with a check and a hug. "Take a vacation. We're here for you."

That night in the hotel, I slept for eight hours straight.

For the last four years, I had suffered from insomnia and mild depression.

Now? I slept like a baby.