When the mother-in-law crossed the line: how a stolen pair of shoes broke years of silent tolerance

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For five years of marriage, I learned to turn a blind eye to many things. My mother-in-law had this odd habit—what she called “a family thing”—of taking things without asking. From her very first visit, little things started to go missing: a tray of meatballs, a pack of frozen meat, a brand-new hair straightener. Things you could almost ignore. Almost.

My husband, used to it since childhood, didn’t see the problem. “That’s just how Mom is,” he’d say with a sigh. And I stayed silent—for the sake of peace. But eventually, the glass filled to the brim.

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We were planning to celebrate our fifth wedding anniversary. I had everything ready: dress, makeup appointment booked… all that was left were the shoes. I bought them with joy—elegant, high heels, the kind you don’t wear chasing a toddler. That very day, I worked late and asked my husband to pick up our daughter from daycare. Busy with work himself, he asked his mother instead. He handed her our apartment keys without a second thought.

When I came home, the apartment was quiet. I looked toward the spot where I had left the shoebox. Empty.

“Where are my new shoes?” I asked.

“I don’t know, honey,” he said.

“Did your mom come?”

“Yes, she came to pick up Ania.”

“And the keys?”

“I gave them to her…”

Something in me snapped. I picked up the phone and called her, my voice steady:

“Sorry to call this late, but you know why I’m calling.”

“No,” she replied calmly.

“Where are my new shoes?”

“I gave them to Anetka. You have plenty,” she said—and hung up.

My husband tried to smooth things over: “I’ll buy you another pair.” But this time, I didn’t give in. I took him shopping and picked out the most expensive pair I could find. He nearly fainted at the price—but he bought them.

On the way home, his phone rang. It was her.

“I’m coming over. I need to put some vegetables in your freezer. I don’t have room.”

He looked out the window, then at me. And said, with a calm I didn’t expect:

“No, Mom. Don’t come. Not today, not tomorrow, not next year. Your last visit cost us too much.”

That day, I didn’t just get new shoes. I got back a boundary we should’ve drawn a long time ago.

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