My first encounter with Darla should have been a red flag. It was at a family dinner, meant to welcome me into the fold. Darla, with a tight smile, presented me with a bouquet — nearly identical to the one she’d given Clark’s cousin just moments before, but somehow, the gesture felt less warm, more obligatory.
A Christmas tree | Source: Pexels
Fast forward to our first Christmas together. Darla went on and on about the perfect presents she found for Clark’s cousins. When I opened mine, it was a carbon copy of their gifts. “I ran out of time for you,” she said with a shrug, “but really, you should try to be more like them anyway.” I was stunned into silence, a theme that would repeat itself more times than I’d care to admit.
A brown gift box | Source: Pexels
