I shook my head, and just like that, any hope of a pleasant evening disappeared. They exchanged a glance that said everything: How did our son end up with her?

I smiled politely, ate my dinner, and told myself things would improve.

I truly believed that if I tried hard enough, they’d eventually accept me.

I was wrong.

The wedding came sooner than I expected. We kept it small and intimate. At the reception, Ethan’s mother approached me near the dessert table.

“You look beautiful,” she said, pulling me into a hug. Then she whispered, “We’ll see how long this lasts.”

I pulled back. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, I just mean marriage is difficult,” she replied smoothly. “Especially when two people come from very different worlds.”

“We’re not that different,” I said.

“Of course not,” she smiled, squeezing my hand. “I’m sure you’ll be very happy.”

I told Ethan about it that night. He held me close and kissed my forehead.

“She’s just protective,” he said. “Give her time.”

So I did.

But a year later, they showed us exactly who they were.

The breaking point came when Ethan declined a promotion that would’ve required us to move across the country.