In the living room sat his parents: the mother-in-law in a burgundy dress and pearls, the father-in-law with a glass of wine. A tense silence hung in the house. The dinner looked luxurious — caviar, pâté, appetizers — but each of their toasts sounded like a hidden jab.

Near the end, when my fiancé stepped out to take a phone call and most of the guests had already left, the mother-in-law leaned toward her husband and quickly said something in French with a smug smile. They laughed quietly, completely certain that I didn’t understand.