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I Always Felt Sick after Eating My MIL’s Dinner — My Life Changed Drastically When I Caught Her Red-Handed

“Maybe she loves you and the kids, but she sure as hell doesn’t love me,” I muttered, the frustration boiling over. “She never gets sick. You never get sick. It’s always me. Every single time.”

Zack sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what to say, Stella. Maybe it’s just stress? You’ve been under a lot lately with the kids and work.”

I shook my head, tears welling up. “No, Zack. You don’t understand. It’s not stress.”

I knew Zack wouldn’t believe me until I had substantial proof. But how could I prove it? I couldn’t exactly go around accusing Cynthia of poisoning me without any evidence. The next family gathering loomed on the horizon, and the mere thought of another bout of illness filled me with dread.

I needed a plan, something to catch her red-handed. I started to think about ways to monitor what Cynthia was doing to my food discreetly. Maybe I could switch our plates when she wasn’t looking? Or bring my own food and pretend to eat hers? The gears in my mind turned as I considered each possibility.

The night before our next visit, I lay in bed, my mind racing. Zack was already asleep, his breathing deep and even beside me. I stared at the ceiling, my heart pounding with anxiety and determination.

The day of Cynthia’s birthday dinner arrived, and I was determined to confirm my suspicions. I dressed up, plastering a smile on my face, and braced myself for the evening ahead. Zack, as usual, was excited to see his mom and spend time with his family.

We arrived at Cynthia’s house, and she greeted us with her typical warmth.

“Stella, darling, so good to see you!” she exclaimed, pulling me into a hug that felt like being squeezed by a boa constrictor. “And Zack, my handsome son! Happy to have you home.”

I forced a smile. “Happy birthday, Cynthia. The house looks lovely.”

“Thank you, dear,” she said, her eyes glinting with something I couldn’t quite place. “Come, everyone’s waiting in the dining room.”

When dinner was served, I waited for the right moment. While Cynthia was busy fussing over Dylan and Faith, I subtly swapped my plate and drink with Zack’s. My heart pounded as I tried to act naturally, engaging in small talk and pretending to enjoy the meal. Zack seemed oblivious, enjoying the food and chatting with his mom.

As the night wore on, I couldn’t help but watch Cynthia closely. She was in her element, charming everyone with her stories and laughter. But I knew better. When it was finally time to leave, I felt a wave of relief and anxiety. I knew the real test would come once we got home.

“Thanks for the lovely evening, Cynthia,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Oh, anytime, Stella. You know you’re always welcome here,” she replied, her smile as fake as ever.

Back home, Zack started feeling unwell almost immediately. “I don’t know what’s wrong,” he groaned, clutching his stomach. “I think I’m coming down with something.”

I bit my lip, pretending to be concerned. “Oh no, Zack. Do you need anything? Should I get you some medicine?”

“Nah, I just need to lie down,” he said, heading to the bedroom.

The next morning, Zack was still sick. He was pale, exhausted, and frustrated. “I don’t get it. Why am I the only one who got sick? You ate the same food as me,” he said, looking at me suspiciously.

“Well, actually,” I began, taking a deep breath, “I switched our plates last night. I wanted to see if it was just me or if something else was going on.”

Zack’s face turned red with anger. “You did what!? Are you saying you poisoned me?”

“No, Zack! I didn’t poison you! I just needed to know if your mom was messing with my food,” I said, my voice shaking.

He stared at me with such hatred that it took my breath away. It was as if he had known all along what his mom was up to. “You’ve gone too far, Stella. This is insane.”

“I had to do it, Zack. She’s been making me sick for months, and you never believed me. Now you know the truth,” I said, trying to stay calm.

“I can’t believe you’d do something like this!” he snapped. “You’re not the woman I married!”

“And your mom’s not the loving mother you think she is!” I retorted, tears streaming down my face. “I need to protect myself and our kids from her.”

“I can’t deal with this right now,” he said, turning away from me. “Just go.”

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