When my husband petitioned me to act out a $15K loan for his mother, he insisted she’d recompense in a month. But weeks later, my MIL rejected ever borrowing a dime. Now the debt is mine, and the lies are only just beginning to untangle.
Some marriages seem perfect from the outside, like those Instagram couples who post sunset photos and anniversary tributes that make you feel inadequate about your relationship.
But sometimes that flawless relationship is just a facade.
Andrew and I had been married for 16 years and had a 14-year-old daughter who did well in school and sports.
Nice house in a nice neighborhood? Check.
Functional relationship without the spark? Also, check.
On paper, our marriage seemed great, but behind closed doors, I’d learned long ago that I’d forever be playing second fiddle to Andrew’s mother.
Andrew considered Susan’s birthday like it was his favorite holiday. He’d buy her jewelry and send her flowers (not supermarket flowers either, but a couple dozen peonies in a crystal vase).
For my birthday, I usually got a hurried “Happy Birthday” with a cup of coffee and a kiss on the cheek.
If he recalled it. Most years, I reminded him the day after.
It wasn’t okay.
So I stayed quiet, centered on my daughter, and maintained playing the role of the understanding wife.
That worked fine until the night he came home with that look on his face.
He paraded around our kitchen like a caged animal, running his hands through his hair, examining his phone, and avoiding eye contact.
I just continued on loading the dishwasher while I waited for him to drop whatever bomb he was holding.
Finally, he ended pacing and looked at me. “Honey, I need you to take out a loan.”
I blinked. “Okay. For what?”
“My mom needs $15,000.”
“Fifteen thousand? What does she need that much money for?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Don’t concern about it? Those four words made it feel like I was some child who couldn’t handle grown-up conversations.
“Why can’t you take out the loan yourself, Andrew?”
“Because I work at a bank. If this appears on my record, it could affect my job.”
“It’s just a quick, temporary thing, babe,” Andrew said.
“Mom will repay you next month. You’ll barely even owe interest by then. You’re not really taking on debt, it’s just a pass-through.”
“I don’t know…” I shouted.
“This is for my family,” he said. “For us.”
So I caved. I always caved.
The day after my loan was approved, I drove to the bank and withdrew the $15,000.
The teller counted it twice, her eyebrows raised slightly.
When he came home that evening, the first thing Andrew did was ask if I got the money.
I walked over to the bookcase, where I’d tucked the thick envelope away.
“What’s taking so long?” Andrew barked behind me.
“Here’s the $15,000 from my loan,” I said.
“Thanks,” Andrew replied.
“I’ll take it to Mom tonight.”
That was it. No kiss, no squeeze of my hand, no acknowledgment of what I’d just done for him.
The due date came, and neither my husband nor his mother said a single word about repayment.
Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore.
I sent his mother a polite text message: “Hi! Just examining in about the repayment for the loan. Let me know when works best for you.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I never borrowed a cent from you. And I’m not paying anything back.”
Then I walked to the kitchen where my husband was eating cereal and showed him the message.
Instead, he hardly glanced at the phone before waving. “I don’t think she ever planned to pay you back.”
“What? You told me she’d pay me back in a month.”
“I had no choice. She said she’d cut me off if I didn’t help her.”
“Cut you off from what?”
“Her will. Her house. Everything.”
“You don’t understand how much she’s done for me.”
“Andrew, what did Susan use that money for?”
“Don’t even think about it!” I stepped in front of him. “Tell me the truth.”
Andrew told me everything then, and it left me silent.
“Your mother used my credit to finance a makeover?” I said.
“She’s dating again,” he said, like that explained everything.
The money had also used for a luxury wardrobe and a professional photoshoot.
Turned out that while I was losing sleep over loan payments, she was posting Instagram photos with hashtags like #Ageless and #HotGirlSummer, showing off her new D-cup life that I’d unknowingly financed.
“Look on the bright side, babe,” Andrew said. “Making the loan payments is going to enhance your credit score.”
I couldn’t believe he and Susan had crossed me like this, but even worse than that was how stupid I felt.
I kept making the loan payments because the debt was in my name.
But I also called a lawyer.
The video clearly presented him taking the envelope and saying, “I’ll take it to Mom tonight.”
She began asking questions about the house his mother had apparently used to control him.
Turns out, it wasn’t even legally hers.
The property was still in her late husband’s name. There had been no updates to the will or transfer of ownership.
My husband was already set to inherit everything. The “cut-off” threat was purely manipulative.
Then I did something I should have done a long time before.
I filed for divorce and full custody.
No way was I letting Emma develop thinking this kind of emotional blackmail was ordinary family behavior.
My lawyer also rubbed fraud charges. Andrew had forced me into a loan under false pretenses, and we had video proof.
He tried to backpedal, confirming he’d given the money back to his mother, but all the evidence was against him.
He was backed into a corner, and really? I was not sorry about it.
While he spiraled, I stepped away to rebuild with my daughter. It was difficult, but in a nice manner.
One morning, curiosity got the best of me, and I checked his mother’s Instagram account.
I had been blocked. Apparently, #HotGirlSummer does not include litigation.
