“Now you’ll never marry my son!” my mother-in-law laughed, setting my wedding dress on fire. I wiped my tears, smiled coldly, and said, “Enjoy destroying that dress, because the wedding was never the real trap.” Her face went completely pale when I made one quick phone call…

can’t marry my son’ while actively wielding an open flame,” I noted dryly, pulling my sunglasses down over my eyes.

“Linda has always treated reality as a loose suggestion,” Jason snorted.

During our designated screen time, we waded through the deluge of direct messages from strangers. They poured in from Seattle, from London, from Tokyo. They were missives continue reading …