In the hopes of repairing a strained relationship, I lent my car to my daughter-in-law, Layla. However, she returned it in a terrible state, refused to accept responsibility or pay for the damage. That’s when I decided to teach her a lesson that she wouldn’t forget.
Life hasn’t been easy since my husband, Nathan, passed away from cancer five years ago. “Jennifer, always look after Toby,” he advised one day. “He may be 30 and seemingly grown, but he’ll need you.” He was indeed right; my son needed me as he navigated through his grief. We often reminisced about Nathan, sharing memories that were both comforting and bittersweet.
Toby met Layla shortly after Nathan passed. She seemed perfect when we first met; charming and well-put-together. I had no inkling then that she would intrude into our lives and create a wedge between Toby and me.
Six months after we met, Toby married Layla. I was relieved and full of joy watching him start his new chapter, but my relationship with Layla became complicated quickly. One lunch visit, arriving ten minutes late didn’t sit well with her. “Why are you so late?” she shot at me. It wasn’t the welcome I’d expected.
Things got worse. Layla would be sugary sweet in Toby’s presence but switch to a bitter tone whenever he wasn’t around. Understandably, they began siding together in disputes, making me uncomfortable whenever I stood my ground.
Months later, Layla called unexpectedly, requesting to borrow my car. Her vehicle needed repairs, and she wanted to visit a friend living a few hours away. I agreed, seeing this as an opportunity to improve our relationship, despite feeling uneasy for some reason.
After returning my car a week later, it was heartbreaking to see it covered in scratches and dents. The interior was a mess, carrying an overwhelming stench. Layla denied misusing it, falsely claiming, “It was like this when I got it.” Surprisingly, Toby believed her over me.
Seeing no resolution, I knew arguing would only widen the gap with my son. Instead, I devised a plan to give Layla a taste of her own medicine. Armed with animal attractant sprays, I quietly and meticulously applied them around their property at night.
The morning after, I woke to an anxious call from Toby describing the chaos wild animals had caused, turning their home into a smelly mess. “Oh my!” I empathized, “That must be difficult. It’s reminiscent of how one feels when their property is disrespected,” I added suggestively.
Layla seemed to understand my message, and slowly, the dynamic shifted. She treated me decently at family gatherings, no longer taking jabs or wasting my time. Meanwhile, Toby called more often, our relationship gradually improving as respect returned to its place.
Nathan had been right about Toby needing me. As much as I wanted to give up, standing my ground proved essential in redefining my role in Layla and Toby’s lives. This was my peace.
