My MIL Insisted I Divorce My Husband Threatened to Ruin My Life – After Learning Why, I Could Blame No One but Myself

When Laura and Duane begin a course of diet pills, they think they are molding themselves into their dream bodies. But when Laura receives an absurd text from her mother-in-law, she discovers there’s more to the pills than she thought.

I never quite imagined that a simple text could change everything I knew about my marriage.

You have to divorce my son, or I will turn your life into a nightmare.

Goosebumps ran along my arms when I realized that it wasn’t a random message from an unknown number. No, it was from my mother-in-law.

Panic surged through my veins, and without hesitation, I dialed my husband’s number.

“Pick up, Duane,” I repeated, pacing my bedroom.

Three calls later, and there was still no answer.

Colleen, my mother-in-law, disliked me. She loved Duane, my husband, and Danielle, my daughter. But she couldn’t stand me. It started when Dani was born — Colleen wanted to name her Jessica, after her own sister.

But Duane and I had always wanted to name our daughter Danielle.

“You’re so spoiled, Laura,” Colleen told me, holding Dani hours after she was born. “I’ve been around for your entire pregnancy, helping you whenever you needed me. But you can’t do this one thing for me.”

Anyway, since then — twelve years ago — Colleen has been cold and distant toward me.

This morning had been like any other. I made breakfast for Duane before he left for work — it was one of those rare Saturdays when he went into work.

“Pack me some trail mix, please,” he asked, while he drank his coffee. “I tend to snack more now that we’re on our diet pills.”

I laughed because I felt the same way.

Recently, my sister had told me about her new obsession — diet pills.

“You’ve got to try them, Laura!” she gushed. “They’ve really helped me trim off the extra pounds I’ve been trying to get rid of.”

“Fine, but I’m going to make Duane do it with me too,” I said, ordering the pills while we spoke.

Since then, we took two pills with every meal. And we had begun to eat cleaner too. I felt great, truly believing that they were working.

I stood at the kitchen counter, cutting up fruit for Dani’s breakfast when she stormed in, her eyes fiery. I needed to keep myself busy until Duane returned my calls. I didn’t know what his mother was on about.

“How could you do that to Dad?” she demanded, setting her bottle of water down onto the counter.

Her tone shocked me.

“Mom!” she said when I paused before asking her what was wrong.

“What are you on about, darling?” I asked, pushing the plate of fruit closer to her.

“Granny called me and said that you poisoned Dad!” she accused, tears angrily falling down her face.

“Danielle, what on earth are you talking about?” I asked again, my voice firmer.

“Granny called me now, and she asked if I had heard from Dad. I said no, and that he was working today. Granny told me that he was taken to the hospital. She said that you poisoned him.”

My daughter eyed the fruit on the counter.

The word ‘poison’ echoed in my mind. Obviously, I hadn’t poisoned my husband, but the reality was absurd and terrifying.

Things quickly unfolded after that.

I called Colleen, who refused to answer my calls.

“Dani, call your granny. Ask her which hospital Dad is at. Come on, get to the car.”

Colleen answered Dani’s call immediately and told her that she would wait in the parking lot for her.

“Don’t bring your mom,” Colleen said bitterly. “This is all her fault.”

It turns out that in our quest to improve our bodies, I was hurting my husband. Duane had fallen ill at work — vomiting and experiencing vicious side pains. His colleagues had taken him to the hospital.

“It’s all because of those pills,” Colleen spat at me when she filled Dani and me in.

“How did you find out?” I asked her.

“Duane’s friend called me,” she said simply.

The hospital visit was a blur.

“We found a high concentration of various substances in your husband’s bloodstream,” the doctor explained, his tone clinical yet tinged with concern.

“This is why doctors do not promote these schemes. It appears that the dietary supplements Duane has been taking have played a significant role in his health.”

Guilt engulfed me.

Especially because I had been taking the pills too, and I was absolutely fine.

My mother-in-law’s accusation hung over me like a dark cloud as I approached my husband’s bedside.

Duane’s eyes met mine, not with anger but with an unsettling calm.

“Honey, I’m so sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Looking at him, IVs attached to his arm, I felt my tears coming in hot.

Duane took my hand, his grip weak but warm.

“I know, Laura,” he said. “I know you didn’t do it intentionally; you’re taking them too. But it has to stop. What if you get sick too?”

“But your mother thinks I did this to you on purpose. How can we move past this?” I asked, aware that Colleen was in the hallway with Dani.

I hoped she wasn’t trying to convince my child that I had poisoned Duane intentionally.

“We’ll move past it when we explain to her. My mom is just scared and confused, but everything will be fine.”

I smiled at him. He needed to know that I would try with Colleen — even if we both knew how she felt about me.

Duane’s recovery was slow, filled with difficult conversations with Colleen.

“You must understand that I had no intention of this happening,” I told Colleen while we were in the kitchen making soup for Duane.

“Then how did he get those pills?” she asked.

“Because we were both taking them. My sister swore by them, and they worked for her. So, Duane and I wanted to try them.”

“Are you okay?” Colleen asked, out of character.

“Yeah, I haven’t had any side effects. But Duane made me promise to stop taking them.”

She nodded, spooning soup into bowls.

My mother-in-law and I treaded on a fragile truce after that. I understood that she was worried about Duane, but so was I. Now, she’s less cold to me, but she still keeps me at a distance.

I’m not worried though — at least we can have the odd conversation now.

Do you have any similar stories?

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