I love my sister-in-law, Melissa, but dealing with her is a full-time job. She’s high-maintenance, dramatic, and somehow always manages to make every situation about her. For the sake of my brother, Brandon, I do my best to keep the peace, but some days it’s exhausting.
Melissa has always had a way of leeching off people. Married to Brandon for about ten years now, she’s perfected the art of manipulation. And Brandon? Completely blind to it. She expects everyone to cater to her whims, and for some reason, she never sees a problem with it.
Last month, she invited me to go grocery shopping at one of her favorite fancy stores. I should have known better.
“Oh, come on, Hannah,” she said, batting her eyelashes like I’d never seen. “It’ll be fun for us to spend some time together.”
It was just before her birthday, so I thought maybe it could be nice—a little bonding, maybe even picking up a gift. I had no idea I was walking straight into a trap.
As soon as we got out of her car, she glared down at my shoes.
“Your shoes are definitely not made for walking around this store for hours,” she said, smirking.
“I’ll be fine,” I laughed, trying to ignore the warning signs.
Hours later, we were still wandering through aisles. Melissa tossed items into the cart like she was playing a game.
“Do you really need six of these candles?” I asked, watching her pile them up.
“Yes!” she said, eyes sparkling as she surveyed the imported collections. “I need them for my birthday!”
By the time we reached the checkout, the total came to $1,470. My jaw hit the floor.
Melissa turned to me, smiling innocently.
“Oh no! Hannah, I think I left my wallet at home! Can you cover this? I’ll pay you as soon as we get back.”
I froze. The audacity. But I didn’t want a scene. “Sure,” I said, hiding my irritation. “Are you really sure you need all of this?”
“Yes, Hannah. This is all stuff for my birthday.”
I reluctantly handed over my card. Melissa jumped into her car and drove off, leaving me standing there like an idiot.
Days passed, then a week. At our next family brunch, I finally asked her about the money.
Melissa laughed, swirling her mimosa. “Oh, come on! Why are you being so greedy? Consider it a birthday gift. You can afford it!”
I couldn’t believe it. My sister-in-law—laughing in my face after leaving me with a $1,470 bill.
That was it. It was time for Melissa to learn a lesson.
Her biggest brag for months had been her dream car. “It’s luxurious, Hannah,” she gushed one evening. “The seats were made for me! And Brandon is co-signing the loan so we can get it!”
“Why him?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“My credit is shot,” she admitted sheepishly. “I couldn’t get approved otherwise. But that’s why I have a husband!”
I decided to intervene. I anonymously tipped off the dealership, hinting that she might not qualify. Suddenly, the process became complicated. More paperwork, references, and endless delays. Melissa was furious, and Brandon was starting to notice.
“Why is this taking so long?” she whined at dinner one night.
“They said they need more paperwork,” Brandon replied, frustrated. “You’ll just have to be patient.”
Melissa muttered under her breath, “Stupid formalities,” poking at her food.
Next, I contacted a friend at the bakery Melissa loved. The same place she always ordered ridiculously expensive custom cakes from. I suggested they demand payment upfront.
“This is ridiculous!” Melissa complained to Brandon. “Why do they need all the money now? They never did before!”
“Do you have the money?” Brandon asked, confused.
“Of course, I do!” she snapped. “But it’s the principle of it!”
I wasn’t finished yet. Online shopping was her next obsession. Using Brandon’s Amazon account, I changed the password. Melissa was locked out and spent hours on the phone with “customer service,” fuming.
“Amazon is useless!” she complained to Brandon later. “They can’t even secure their own website!”
“Maybe take a break from shopping?” he suggested half-joking.
“Not funny, Brandon. It’s my birthday soon! I deserve nice things!”
I chuckled quietly, watching her entitlement grow.
Finally, Melissa’s birthday arrived. I had spread the word among family and friends about how she’d stiffed me on that $1,470 bill. By the evening, very few people showed up. Her lavish cake sat untouched, her dream car still in limbo, and her party was a ghost town.
“Where is everyone?” she asked Brandon, panic in her voice.
“They… left?” he said slowly. “Maybe they’re running late. Hannah, do you know?”
I shrugged innocently. “The party started an hour ago,” I said.
Her birthday gift? A tiny card with a $14.70 gift card inside.
“Here’s a little something toward your next shopping trip. Happy Birthday, Melissa!”
Humiliated, she stared at the card.
A few evenings later, Brandon called me, sounding exhausted.
“Hey, can we talk?” he asked.
“What’s up?” I replied. I already knew.
“It’s Mel,” he sighed. “She’s been acting strange. And with all the things you told everyone… I think I’m finally seeing what I ignored for years.”
“I’m sorry, Brandon,” I said softly. “But you deserve to see the truth. She can’t keep manipulating people and expect to get away with it.”
“We need a serious conversation,” he said. “If she doesn’t change, divorce might be the only option.”
I left him to it, hoping Brandon’s eyes were finally open to the woman he married and that Melissa would start to understand the consequences of her actions.