My husband and I had been married for three years when his mother decided she no longer liked me. At first, it was little things. She criticized my clothes, questioned my cooking, and joked that her son could have married someone richer. I usually ignored her. Then, during her sixtieth birthday dinner, she decided to make her opinion public. Thirty guests were seated around the table when she lifted her glass. “I want to thank everyone for coming,” she began. “Especially my son, who has worked so hard to provide for his family.” She paused and looked at me. “Of course, some people are better at spending money than earning it.” A few guests laughed awkwardly. I put down my fork. My husband squeezed my hand beneath the table, silently asking me not to react. Then his mother continued. “Tell me, dear. If my son lost his job tomorrow, how long would you stay married to him?” The room became uncomfortable. I looked at her. “Why don't you ask your son how long he would stay if I lost mine?” She smiled coldly. “That's different. A husband has responsibilities.” I nodded. “You're right. Responsibilities matter.” Then I reached into my handbag and placed a document beside her birthday cake. It was a property registration certificate. She frowned. “What is that?” “The house your son lives in.” She laughed. “My son bought that house!” “No,” I replied. “I bought it two years before we married. He moved into it after our wedding.”