The following week, I decided to test the waters. During dinner, I brought up the idea of reviewing our finances more frequently, suggesting a monthly check-in. My husband seemed receptive enough, but his mother, who was visiting, tensed at the suggestion.
“Isn’t that a bit excessive?” she asked, her tone laced with a hint of irritation. “We trust each other, don’t we?”
I held her gaze, my expression neutral. “Of course, but transparency never hurts,” I replied, watching as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
After dinner, I overheard her speaking to my husband in hushed tones, their words barely audible from where I stood. I felt a mix of anger and resolve. The more they tried to conceal, the more determined I became to uncover the truth.
In the days that followed, I noticed subtle changes in their behavior. My husband seemed more attentive, perhaps sensing that something was amiss. His mother, however, became more evasive, her visits less frequent, her demeanor more guarded.
I continued to document everything, filling my notebook with observations, questions, and plans. The evidence was mounting, and soon it would be undeniable.
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