My In-Laws Skipped Thanksgiving and Sent a Gift Instead — But the Moment My Husband Opened It, He Shouted, ‘We Have to Drive to Their House Right Now!’

Clark, at forty-eight, had a contagious laugh and a soft spot for sentimental gestures; every holiday, he still wrote handwritten cards to Julian. So yes, we expected enthusiasm, support, maybe even joyful tears. But as soon as we found out, their behavior changed in ways that made no sense.

At first, it was small things. Clark started ignoring Julian’s calls, which was unheard of. When Julian would try again an hour later, Clark would send back an odd text:

Sorry buddy.

Fixing the attic. Except… they didn’t have an attic. Or:

Working on the porch.

Can’t talk. And they didn’t have a porch, either. At first, Julian and I joked about how maybe Clark had a secret life as a handyman for imaginary house features.

But the humor faded quickly when Maribel also began acting strangely. She and I used to text daily. She sent recipes and home décor ideas, and occasionally pictures of her garden with captions like, My children are thriving, referring to her tomato plants.

But suddenly her messages were distant, abrupt, full of emojis that made no sense in context. If I said I wasn’t feeling well because of morning sickness, she’d respond with something like:

🥚🥐🎣😅

Random. Meaningless.

Not remotely her normal style. Julian grew worried. I felt uneasy.

But we tried to be patient, assuming they were busy or something was stressing them out. Then came the incident with the guest room. We visited them one Sunday afternoon, hoping maybe we could reconnect a bit.

Normally, when we visited, we walked right in, slipped off our shoes, and helped ourselves to sweet tea in the fridge. It was like our second home. But that afternoon, the energy felt different.

Stiff. Guarded. Clark seemed nervous; he kept smoothing his hair back and clearing his throat.

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