I should have known better than to trust a gift from Debbie. That sweet, almost-too-innocent smile when she handed me the box, the gleam in her eye—it wasn’t kindness.
But they were just shoes, right? Beautiful yellow patent leather heels, exactly my style. For once, it seemed like my mother-in-law was actually making an effort.
“Oh, they’re lovely,” I said, trying to mask the unease creeping in.
She smiled back. “I thought you might want something nice for once.”
I played along, like I always did. After all, Arthur adored her, and I was just trying to keep the peace.
Still, Debbie’s comments were constant. From the time she brought up Arthur’s ex during Christmas dinner to the way she crashed our anniversary with embarrassing childhood photos.
I left the shoes in the box for a while, until a work trip to Chicago came up. “Wear them,” Arthur said. “Show her you appreciate the effort.”
So, I slipped them on, ignoring the uneasy feeling in my stomach.
At the airport, something felt off with my left shoe. By the time I got to security, I was limping. The TSA agent asked me to remove the insole, and there it was—a hidden plastic-wrapped bundle.
I froze, my heart pounding. “These were a gift from my mother-in-law,” I stammered, panic rising.
Fortunately, the package tested negative for drugs, but they confiscated it. I made my flight—barely. But the unease lingered.
Back home, I had the bundle tested. Mugwort. Yarrow. St. John’s Wort—herbs used in folk magic, intended to sever bonds and banish people.
Debbie hadn’t just sabotaged me—she’d tried to cast me out.
I told Arthur everything. He was silent for a moment, then furious. “She crossed a line,” he said. “Until she owns up and apologizes, she’s not welcome here.”
He squeezed my hand, his voice firm. “You’re my family now.”
