But lately they had crossed every possible line. My mother-in-law started messaging me almost every day with things she “needed”: cosmetics, a new blouse, help with her loan. My husband constantly repeated that “Mom has to live well.” And me? To them, I was nothing but a walking wallet.

That day was my only day off. I could finally sleep. I had just closed my eyes when the bedroom door flew open. My husband yanked the blanket off me, leaned over, and said in a tone as if I were his servant: