Two weeks later, back from the honeymoon, life rushed forward in a blur of work and routine. But the envelope and its aftermath lingered in my mind like a splinter. At a Sunday brunch with my in-laws, the subject was broached, albeit indirectly. « Your father seems like a nice man, » my mother-in-law said, her voice smooth but her eyes probing.
« He is, » I replied, meeting her gaze. Her expression remained unreadable, but I felt the weight of the unspoken expectations between us.
After the meal, while my wife chatted with her siblings, my father-in-law pulled me aside. « I hear your dad gave you a little something at the wedding, » he said, a faint smile playing on his lips.
« Yes, it was a thoughtful gesture, » I replied, wary of where the conversation might lead.
He nodded, his expression unchanged. « Family is important, » he said, and the conversation drifted to safer topics.
As we drove home, my wife asked, « What did Dad want to talk about? » I hesitated, then told her about the brief exchange. She sighed, a mix of frustration and empathy in her eyes. « They just don’t understand, » she said.
« Maybe they don’t want to, » I replied, feeling the quiet power play that had begun to unfold around us.
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