She treated me like her own daughter. We went shopping together, went to the spa, talked for hours.
Sometimes, when we were out, people even mistook me for her biological child.
But her relationship with my father-in-law was a different story altogether.
They argued often—quiet arguments, but heavy with tension. Sometimes she would lock herself in the bedroom and leave him sleeping on the couch.
Richard was a man of few words, always yielding, always silent.
He often joked bitterly that after decades of compromise, he had long forgotten what it felt like to argue back.
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