When I started dating William, I became close to his younger sister, Kate, who was the same age as me. Since I had no sister, Kate quickly filled that role in my life, becoming what I’d never had. I shared almost everything with her—sometimes too much, especially when it came to my relationship with William.

At one point, William told me he was ready to take things to the next level and get married. I was happy, but I felt anxious. I wanted to pursue my master’s degree, and I was worried that a wedding would drain my finances, and that marriage would interfere with my educational goals. I confided in Kate about this, and while she didn’t say much at the time, shortly afterward, his parents began pressuring him to consider marrying someone else. I didn’t understand where this sudden push had come from, but William stood his ground and remained committed to me.

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Later, his father gave us one of his apartments and told us we could add our personal touches. I wanted tiles for the bathroom, but William suggested wallpaper because it was more affordable. Frustrated, I vented to Kate about wanting to pay for the tiles and how his approach to finishing the apartment was getting on my nerves. Before I knew it, his father decided to take the apartment back. We had to plead with him multiple times to change his mind.

The next time William and I argued, it was over who would make our wedding cake. I wanted a professional, someone with experience, while he wanted to go with a more frugal option. Kate was there when this argument happened, so I didn’t even need to tell her. Soon after, his parents called and suggested we postpone the wedding.

After we got married, Kate moved in with us. That’s when it all became clear—she was scrutinizing our marriage and reporting every detail back to her parents, fueling their dislike for me. She watched my every move, and like a vigilant referee with VAR, she paused on every mistake, every fault, and then reported them to her parents, who would use the information to attack me. I started keeping my distance, being very careful about what I shared with her.

This shift angered her. She didn’t like that I had become more secretive, so she started fighting me emotionally, and then verbally. Eventually, my husband had had enough; he moved us out of the house before things could turn physical.

From this experience, I learned that in-laws are not your best friends. It’s wise to be at peace with them but also to be careful with what you share. Remember, you’re just an in-law and will always be one.