But the word "uxorilocal" was something Irvin couldn't bear to hear.
"Greta, I'm the only son in my family. My parents are counting on me. I can't leave them!"
And I, drowning in lovesick stupidity, ignored my parents' tears and my friends' warnings and followed him back to his hometown.
Reality slapped me hard across the face.
After the wedding, the hillside farm he and his parents had contracted lost money year after year. My parents were the ones keeping them afloat.
All those promises he'd made when we were dating—"We'll have two kids, one takes each surname"—turned out to be nothing but lies from the very beginning.
His whole family had planned from the start to leech off mine.
The more I thought about it, the tighter the knot in my chest became, until it physically ached.
I don't know how long I lay there before the door creaked open.
Irvin walked in carrying a container of soup dumplings—my favorite.
"Honey, still mad? I just got Marcia to sleep. She cried her heart out, absolutely refuses to change her name."
I laughed coldly to myself.
"You're right. Changing names is such a hassle—so much paperwork to redo."
His face lit up instantly.