“Your mother is gone. Tears won’t bring her back—so wipe your face, make dinner, and don’t look like a grieving child when my guests arrive.” That was what my husband said.

Your mother is dead. What good is crying going to do? Is it going to bring her back? Hurry up and get dinner ready. My friends will be here soon. Those were the first words my husband said to me. It had been exactly 2 hours since I had returned home from my mother’s funeral. My husband forced me to cook for his party on the very day she was buried. It all felt like a never-ending nightmare until a man showed up and told my husband, “Everyone who’s anyone in this town knows exactly who your mother-in-law was—everyone but you.” After that night, everything changed forever. The sound of the car engine cutting off echoed with an unnatural sharpness in the silence of the cold garage.