During a visit to her mother-in-law’s house, Macy endures constant teasing about her cooking, her appearance, and the way she treats her husband. When she finally decides to stand up for herself, she becomes the villain. However, an unexpected discovery at her father’s house reveals the reasons behind it all, changing her perspective.
On a deserted road one sunny holiday evening, a car was speeding by. Inside, behind the wheel, was Chandler, a cheerful man with a perpetual smile.
He held the steering wheel with one hand while carefully scrolling through his playlist with the other.
Focused on two tasks, his gaze constantly shifted between the road and the reader. Sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating his face with a warm glow.
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Beside him was his wife, Macy. Her arms were crossed tightly across her chest, and her eyes stared straight ahead, avoiding Chandler.
His face was a picture of irritation, his lips pressed into a thin line. The tension in the car was palpable, as if a cloud of unease hung over them.
After what seemed like an eternity, Chandler finally decided on a song. John Denver’s “Take Me Home, Country Roads” filled the car.
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Chandler’s smile widened and he bobbed his head in time with the music.
“Almost Heaven…” he began to sing, glancing at Macy, hoping she would join in. His voice was warm and inviting, filled with the hope that the music could lighten his mood.
But Macy remained silent, her eyes fixed on the passing scenery outside. Her irritation only grew.
Seeing her reaction, Chandler, undeterred, turned up the volume a little, the familiar tune getting louder and louder.
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Macy’s face tightened and she turned away even further, pressing herself against the car door as if trying to escape the sound.
“Turn the volume down…” she mumbled, her voice barely audible over the music.
Chandler wasn’t ready to give up. He took a deep breath and sang even louder: “Country roads, take me home, to the place I belong…”
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He looked at Macy with a wide smile, trying to pull her into the song, hoping her enthusiasm would be contagious.
Macy’s patience crumbled. With a quick, angry gesture, she reached out and turned off the player. The car fell into a sudden, heavy silence. Tension thickened, filling the space between them like a dense fog.
“What’s wrong? Did I do something?”
Chandler asked, his voice filled with concern and a hint of confusion. He kept his eyes on the road but occasionally glanced at Macy, hoping for an explanation.
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“It’s not you… I’m just not in the mood to sing… you know why…” Macy’s voice was tight with suppressed emotion.
“Because of my mother, isn’t it? It’s just for the weekend, dear…” Chandler’s voice was soft, trying to soothe her.
“She hates me… She always finds something wrong… I either cook badly, clean badly, speak badly, or look badly… I can’t even breathe without hearing that something’s wrong with me.” Macy’s words came out in a rush, her frustration evident.
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“I know, sweetheart, I have no idea why she’s picking on you like this. But it’s just for this weekend. I promise I’ll talk to her so she’ll be nicer.” Chandler reached out to touch her, but she pulled away, still too upset to be comforted.
“No need, the last thing I need is for her to know I’m complaining about her. Let her do what she wants, I just wonder why she does it.”
Macy’s voice wavered and she let out a heavy sigh, staring at her knees.
“You can’t change the direction of the wind…” Chandler said softly, glancing at her with a hopeful smile.
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Macy sighed sadly, feeling the weight of the upcoming weekend weighing on her.
“But we can adjust the sails,” Chandler added with a smile, hoping to bring some levity to the conversation.
A small smile tugged at the corners of Macy’s mouth. She reached out and pressed the player, restarting the song. “Country road! Take me hoooome,” they sang together.
Chandler sang loudly and intently, while Macy joined in with less enthusiasm, but was already starting to feel a little lighter. The warmth of the music and the shared moment were starting to melt the tension, if only a little.
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When they arrived at Chandler’s mother, Linda,’s house, they immediately noticed that her lawn was unkempt and the yard was a bit messy. Weeds were growing through the cracks in the driveway, and the bushes were overgrown.
“I’ve offered to order the lawn mowing so many times,” Macy said, shaking her head.
“You know her, she doesn’t like anyone helping her,” Chandler replied, his voice calm and understanding.
“Yeah, yeah, she does everything herself… She’s our Linda,” Macy adds sarcastically, rolling her eyes.
“Don’t make fun of her, she’s still my mom,” Chandler said, a gentle reminder in his tone.
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“I know, it’s just that she’s all alone here…” Macy interrupted, her voice softening.
“You’re right, but trust me, with time, everything will change,” Chandler reassured her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.
Just then, the door opened and Linda came out, wiping her hands on her apron. “Chandler, what took you so long? The food’s getting cold, come inside quickly,” she said, her tone brisk but warm.
“Hi Mom, we’re coming,” Chandler replied with a smile, waving at her.
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“Hello, Linda,” Macy greeted calmly, trying to keep her voice neutral.
Linda sized her up and said halfheartedly, “And you came? Welcome…”
Chandler looked at Macy sympathetically, gave her an encouraging nod, and walked inside with her, ready for whatever came next.
The table was set with Linda’s finest china, and the savory aroma of stew filled the air. Linda invited Chandler and Macy to sit down, her voice carrying a note of forced cheerfulness.
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The dining room was cozy, with family photos on the walls and an old grandfather clock ticking softly in the corner.
“Please sit down,” Linda said, gesturing to their seats.
Macy and Chandler took their seats. Chandler almost immediately noticed the tension between Linda and Macy. They exchanged cautious glances, and Macy’s shoulders were tense. He decided to break the ice.
“Mom, the stew is delicious, just like when I was a kid!” Chandler exclaimed, his eyes shining with excitement, as he took a bite.
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Linda’s face softened slightly. “I know how much you love this, eat, son. You probably don’t get fed like this at home.”
Macy felt the pain in Linda’s words. She forced herself to stay calm, remembering Chandler’s advice to hold on. She took a deep breath and tried to smile.
“Mom, you don’t have to say that. Macy cooks wonderfully,” Chandler said, trying to defend his wife without escalating the situation.
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Linda glanced at Chandler’s shirt and noticed a small stain. She wiped it away with her hand, her movements quick and precise. “And she takes great care of your clothes too…” she added sarcastically.
Macy tightened her fork. She felt anger rising inside her, but took another breath. This wasn’t the time to explode.
“I’m not very hungry,” Macy said, standing up. “I’m going to go do the dishes.”
Linda watched her leave disapprovingly, her eyes following Macy’s every move.
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Macy went into the kitchen, where the sound of running water soon filled the silence. She began scrubbing the plates with more force than necessary, trying to vent her frustration.
In the dining room, Chandler turned to his mother. “Mom, you’re always hurting her. She’s my wife; you can’t talk to her like that.”
“And I’m your mother!” Linda replied. “I’m just telling the truth. She can’t even eat normally because of her nerves…”
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In the kitchen, Macy heard every word. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she felt anger rising like a tidal wave. It was the final straw. She turned off the water, left the dishes half-washed, and went back into the dining room.
“Great, so we’re telling the truth now?” Macy said, her voice shaking with anger. “Fine, I’ll try too!”
“Honey, please don’t do this…” Chandler begged, sensing the explosion that was about to happen.
“It’s very necessary!” Macy replied, her eyes shining with determination. She turned to Linda, her voice firm and cold.
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“Linda, how about a hostess whose lawn is in terrible shape? It already looks like a swamp. How many times have I offered to help, but you’re too proud!”
Linda’s face flushed with anger. “My lawn is none of your business!”
“Why not? And what about my cooking? You haven’t missed a single one of my flaws. So here’s yours. You’re a bitter, lonely woman who finds it easier to ruin her own son’s life to cheer herself up! You don’t deserve it!”
“That’s enough! Stop it, both of you!” Chandler shouted, unable to bear the hostility any longer. He stood up, placing himself between the two women.
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Linda finally couldn’t hold it back any longer. Tears welled up in her eyes and began to roll down her cheeks. Chandler turned to Macy, his expression a mix of frustration and grief.
“Why did you do that? It doesn’t help the situation.”
“Me? What was I supposed to do, endure it any longer? Make this easier for you? I’m sick of this!” Macy yelled, her voice cracking with emotion. She grabbed her coat, her movements quick and jerky.
“Where are you going?” Chandler asked, his voice tinged with despair.
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“Away from here,” Macy replied, her voice cold and resolute. She left the house and slammed the door behind her, the sound echoing in the now silent dining room.
Chandler stood there, torn between his wife and his mother, unsure how to mend the rift that had just widened even further.
Linda sank back into her chair, tears still streaming down her face, as the smell of the now-cold stew hung in the air, a bitter reminder of how disastrous the evening had turned out to be.
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Macy took a cab to a house that had belonged to her father. Now it was abandoned, filled with old things and memories.
She stepped through the front door, pushing it open with a slight effort, and into the dusty, silent house.
Macy walked over to her old room and opened the door with a soft creak. The room was just as she remembered it, frozen in time.
She ran her fingers over the faded wallpaper and old bedspread.
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Then she headed to her father’s room. She felt as if she were entering a museum of her childhood.
On the nightstand was a framed photo. Macy picked it up and looked at her father’s face. She missed him so much; she longed for her parents at times like these. She sighed deeply and hugged the photo close.
Her phone rang, breaking the silence. She took it out of her pocket and saw Chandler’s name on the screen. With a heavy heart, she answered it and brought the phone to her ear.
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“Where are you?” Chandler asked, his voice filled with concern.
“At my dad’s…” Macy replied softly.
“In that old house? Please come back, I was wrong…” Chandler’s voice was pleading.
“I’ll be back… Give me some time.” Macy’s voice was steady but sad.
“Okay…” Chandler sighed. They hung up, leaving Macy alone with her thoughts.
After hanging up, Macy decided to go up to the attic. It was filled with boxes, covered in a thick layer of dust. She began to rummage through them, looking for any connection to her father.
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She found his favorite hat, his old tools, and his baseball glove. He had always dreamed of having a son, but Macy also played with him, and that’s how she came to love baseball.
At the bottom of a box, she found a strange package. Opening it, she saw a pile of letters, the edges yellowed with age. Macy was intrigued. Who could have written to her reclusive father?
She began reading some letters and was shocked. Her father hadn’t written a single reply. All of these letters had been addressed to him by Linda, Chandler’s mother.
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Macy couldn’t believe it. She reread the names and addresses several times, but everything matched.
Linda wrote dozens of letters to her father. Macy opened the last one and it was clear. Linda and her father had been together in their youth.
It didn’t lead to marriage or children, just young love. In the letters, Linda wrote that she still loved him and asked why he had left her when things were going so well.
Macy sat there, stunned. Linda knew Macy was the daughter of the man who had rejected her.
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A man who had once broken her heart and remained forever in her memory. Linda couldn’t forget the pain Macy’s father had caused her.
The words Macy had spoken during their argument had cut deep into her because they came from the daughter of the man who had hurt her so much. Now Macy regretted what she had said. It all made sense now.
Macy returned to Linda’s and quietly let herself in. In the living room, Chandler and Linda were already waiting for her.
“Honey, please forgive me…” Chandler began, his voice filled with emotion.
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“Yes, Macy. I was wrong… I want…” Linda said.
“No…” Macy interrupted softly, stepping towards Linda. She pulled Linda into her arms and hugged her warmly. “Forgive me, and my dad,” she whispered.
Linda was surprised, but she softened in Macy’s embrace, letting go of the past pain. At that moment, there was no need for words.
The two women understood each other perfectly. The conflict was resolved, marking the beginning of a friendly relationship.
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